The Longest Road
by UglyTruth
Summary: Following SPARTA, there are many that have yet to meet Tommy or come to terms with him. Multiple scenes that explore what could have been and the Marine's road to recovery from all his wounds to start a new life.
1. Hospital

_**The Longest Road**_

The first time Tess meets him, really meets him, it's in a hospital bed in Vegas.

The eldest Conlon steps out of the room just as they finally reach the right hallway. It took a while to get through the press on their way out but Brendan was adamant about coming to the hospital before anything else. The estranged father greets them with a tired nod while arguing with a uniformed man who accompanies him down the hallway. The subject of their conversation isn't hard to guess.

It's the first time she notices he's here. The last time they met face-to-face was several years ago and that was an impression that stuck. For now, she pushes the awful memory associated with this man out of her mind and follows her husband into the room.

She won't admit it in front of Brendan but his brother is still intimidating, lying in that bed. Even more so than when he's beating the shit out of guys in a cage.

His shoulder has been reset immediately after the fight and according to the nurse, he's been ordered to remain still. She's never dislocated anything but she's sure that recovery is far from pleasant. She heard him scream in the arena when her husband put on the pressure, this isn't just a twisted joint.

As Brendan pulls up a chair next to his estranged brother, reaching to clasp the man's hand, Tess feels the Marine's heavy gaze on her.

She can't really bring herself to smile at him and he doesn't either, only looking at her silently. Probably trying to place her. She wonders if he's on medication. At least that would explain his hazy gaze that just wont tear away from her.

Her husband seems to notice their staring contest at last and makes an effort to introduce them. She nods politely and Tommy doesn't move at all, only shifting his eyes back to Brendan as he speaks.

Neither of the brothers says much but the hulk of a man doesn't pull his hand away from the friendly grip. It looks like he can't muster the energy. He listens to Brendan's hushed apologies, grunts a dismissive reply and keeps his focus on the bedsheets. Tess thinks he's just being rude but comes to realize that it's the way he knows to react - not acknowledging his acceptance openly.

She watches them, Brendan's tired, heavily swollen face, Tommy's hard expression and his purple eye, the distance in their closeness. She doesn't really know why she came along. She could have gone back to the hotel but she was curious. Maybe she irrationally wanted to protect her husband, knowing fully well that no more fighting was going to happen. She feels out of place and quietly settles down in the chair in the far corner.

A good ten minutes of one-sided conversation later, Brendan gets up, offering to grab her some coffee. He's still used to his water and protein diet but after the last 24 hours' events, a coffee sounds damn good to her. She nods gratefully.

Then the room is still and she's alone with the injured Marine who has taken an interest in the nightstand rather than her.

She's unsure why Brendan left. Does he want her to talk to his brother? Establish some kind of acceptance? He knows she doesn't share anything with him, can't relate to the man or his relationship with her husband. For all she knows, this is the guy that tried to beat Brendan to a pulp in there. He barely looks anything like he did in those childhood pictures she's seen of them.

She fiddles with her shirt, pulls her hair back into a ponytail, trying to appear busy when she's really evading the man's eyes. What are you even scared of, she mocks herself, he's done nothing to you. Tess takes a deep breath.

"I remember you," Tommy says suddenly. The gruff voice pulls her out of her reverie and her head snaps up immediately.

It's strange to hear him talk. There's so much repressed emotion in his tone. Even stranger is the fact that he initiated a conversation with that statement. She's lost for words. He doesn't look at her exactly, but in her general direction and she's glad he's not pinning her down with his eyes.

"I don't think Brendan ever introduced us," she replies, wondering if he will be angry that she can't recall any encounter between them, "You moved away before he had the chance"

He doesn't give any comment. He seems to be making a real effort to communicate with her and she wonders if this is a favour to his brother or if he's truly interested in their life. "When d'you marry?"

"2004. Brendan wanted to send you an invitation but… " she trails off, not wanting to place any blame. He probably understands well enough what she's trying not to say. You disappeared, nobody knew where you were and Brendan's father barely made it to the ceremony because he was hungover. He wanted you there but there was no way to find you.

He's chewing the inside of his mouth, looking at the ceiling again. She slowly stands and crosses over to the abandoned chair at his bedside. So close, she can see their relation. Not physically so much, but that determination in their faces is exactly the same. Always fighting for a cause. Other than that, they could be strangers for all their similarity.

"Sometimes I wish we'd met. Before," she tells him and the words are both strange on her tongue and a tumble of honesty, "I stopped asking after a while but Brendan, he missed you so much. He felt guilty."

She looks at the tattoos peeking out under his hospital gown, just following the patterns. They're much bolder than her husband's, a brutal, tribal design. He's still not looking at her but his lips twitch, like he's trying not to laugh at her statement. She almost misses his quiet answer and the ironic tone of it ignites a rush of anger in her. "Right"

"None of us have had it easy," she retorts.

He raises an eyebrow, as though it is ridiculous for her to use such a sweeping declaration, and says roughly, "Getting kids is a choice"

Her words are just as bristly. "So is joining the Marines."

He is quiet, staring at the grey surface above them. He doesn't appear to take offense but there's something new, something regretful in his stance. He doesn't argue back. Her eyes fall to the drip in his arm, fluid leaking into his body.

She's seen the officers outside his room. Looking utterly bored but still, they're stationed there to prevent him from escaping unnoticed. She hasn't been following the news but it doesn't take much to know that he's probably in trouble of sorts.

Her voice is softer as she asks, "What's going to happen to you?"

He shrugs with a single shoulder and even though it's the healthy one, his eyes narrow as he represses a wince. He's clearly still in all kinds of pain.

She almost feels pity for him then. Almost puts aside the fact that he's done so much damage to Brandan. He's fought all the way up to here and if it's anything like his brother's hard work, he's put everything into it. Now's he has been beaten, strapped to a hospital bed with nothing but gloomy prospects ahead. She doesn't even know what kind of punishment they dish out to soldiers who abandon their unit.

She presses her palms against each other, resting them against her lips as she thinks. She can sense that this man surely doesn't want comfort, especially from some stranger. She's not even sure if he deserves any from her. The way he's lying here though, she can all but feel the pain under the surface of that stony expression. As a mother, she is strangely inclined to offer him sympathy.

"You know," she begins, then pauses to make sure he's paying attention, "If you're ever in the area and let Brendan know, maybe you could visit. Sometime."

He clearly didn't expect that gesture, despite its reluctant phrasing. His eyes slowly move to really take her in but he does well in hiding the surprise. It takes him a bit to process the invitation. They listen to the banter of the guards outside, the bustle of hospital staff and the scrape of the door as Brendan returns.

She keeps her eyes on Tommy and he finally gives her a hint of a nod, barely a movement. It acknowledgement, not even close to an eager response but she knows that's probably all she'll get.

She receives her coffee with a kiss on the cheek. He tells her the kids just called and asked when they'd come home. Two days without their parents is already a stretch and naturally, she asks how things are with the sitter. When they turn back to the youngest Conlon, his eyes are finally closed and his features more relaxed than before. The drugs have kicked in.

Brendan cracks a gentle smile and gives the sleeping man's arm a last squeeze. Tess can't help but find it strangely endearing how easily he falls into the big brother role. She hasn't seen it on him until now, didn't expect to ever see it. Fourteen years of silence and grudge between the two and a good beating seems to have brought their worlds back into the right place.

She resists the urge to shake her head. The irony. But she knows this family has never been easy.

He holds the door open for her as they leave the room, brushing past the uniformed men and she takes note of the way his eye lingers on his sibling.

Out in the glaring sunshine, she links her fingers with his. "I invited him over"

"What?" He looks beyond surprised. After getting pummelled by the man, he obviously didn't expect her to accept Tommy Riordan. Much less let him enter their home or come near the children. God knows, he thought twice about it after that conversation on the beach.

"I think we'll see him soon," she tells him and is rewarded with a dizzying kiss. She laughs as she pulls away and raises a placating hand to frame his face, all swelling and bruises. The injuries don't bother him as he looks at her with pure adoration.

"Thanks, Tess"

Her smile stays and her fingertips ghost over his skin, "Come on. Let's get you home. That Marine isn't the only one that needs fixing here"


	2. Visitor

Frank Campana has seen his fair share of great fighting. He's witnessed the best of the best, heck, some of them he trained himself. He's had years to make a name for himself in the MMA community.

But when Brendan Conlon qualified for the largest battle challenge and stood up to it, he didn't know that he'd struck gold with the man. He'd known him as a friend even longer than a fighter and he had every confidence in him - but this was something else entirely.

Nobody fights with greater determination than those who have an all-or-nothing goal. Any sceptic thoughts he had when his prime candidate fell out and Brendan stepped in were swept away after the first fight.

When he was pitched against Koba, Frank had to put all his willpower into keeping the man upright and looking forward. Against all odds, the underdog won against the world-class fighter.

Tommy Riordon was a threat he hadn't truly let himself consider until the points were announced. It was clear that there was a good chance Brendan would meet that war hero, or whatever he was, in the cage.

That had been reason for worry.

It only got worse as the media cracked the man's shell open shortly before the final and revealed the true identity behind the hard punches. Brendan had failed to mention that his brother had been participating in this tournament.

Frank hadn't gotten pissed, simply because there was no time. There was only Beethoven, bandaged hands and ice packs.

He left any motivational speeches to his friend's wife who'd arrived to support him.

After Koba, Brendan had taken such a beating that this Marine would pose a challenge. Again, the physics teacher proved him wrong and brought out the combination of technique and timing to overpower the man with twice his muscle.

It was a movie-worthy ending to an epic MMA battle. He watched the two final competitors reconcile on the floor of fighting stage and Brendan guide the injured man out of the ring.

He didn't see them together again.

The exhausted winner returned to accept his prize with a brave grin despite the bruising, holding onto his wife. He gave a short speech to the hundreds of mics shoved in his battered face and refused to comment on the defeated Marine.

Then it was over and they packed and returned home five million dollars richer. Frank went back to his gym, Brendan back to his family and both had their stories to tell.

Despite being unable to resist gloating now and again about having trained the toughest man on the planet, he threw himself right back into getting his other guys into shape for upcoming battles. Word had gotten around after all, he was _the_ trainer.

A month back, Brendan made a generous donation to his funds that he'd almost refused, simply out of principle, and because his new fame had already greatly boosted his income.

His friend had left the cheque on his desk, refusing to take it back. It was a token of gratitude for taking him in when it seemed ridiculous to even consider SPARTA. They left it at a gracious thank you because there really had been nothing left to argue about. He was no match for a stubborn Conlon.

They are still on great terms and while the teacher isn't a regular at the training grounds anymore, he comes for a workout now and again. They talk, they go out for a beer and life goes on the way it did before the tournament. That's just like Brendan though. He never expected him to lose the ground under his feet simply because his bank account is full, the man sets his priorities right.

Two years down the road and Frank has just settled down for a lunch break in his office when _he_ comes in.

He only recognizes him after a moment because the man isn't in a dark hooded jumper but a simple shirt, damp from the summer heat.

There had been hype around him following the tournament. All he recalls is the Marine being taken into custody for desertion and after that the excitement slowly dying down. Sure, there are still fan clubs trying to track him but the media finds others to pick on.

The bulk has definitely decreased but he looks fit and his stance is a whole less hostile than the last time they saw another in person.

Frank clears his throat, tries a neutral tone. They both know it's just politeness. "You looking for a new gym?"

The man shakes his head, the hair slightly shorter than in the ring back then, back to the style that looks suspiciously like a military cut. "Brendan Conlon still train here?" he asks.

The trainer has to smirk. The guy really is a soldier, straight to the point and no bullshit small talk around it. He gestures to the new leather seats he's gotten, indicating for him to take a seat. He is politely ignored.

"No more training. He still comes around though, mainly Saturday nights"

An acknowledging bob of the head and the man wanders around the office, examining the awards on the walls. "You allowed to give out his info?"

"As the guy running this place, no. As his friend, I could," he tells him, tapping his fingers against the tabletop.

He receives a measuring look from dark eyes. "Anything you can give me"

Well at least he's sounding sincere and not demanding it. Frank doesn't the danger in handing over a number. If Brendan doesn't want to see him, he can just hang up.

"I'm guessing he doesn't know you've come to town. You're not here to give him trouble, hm?" Frank wonders aloud as he reaches for a sticky note and pulls out his personal phone to look for Brendan's contact details.

The Marine heaves a chuckle. "No," he examines a photograph of Brendan and Frank at the championship, both suited up for the press, "I was invited"

He scribbles down the cell phone number, debates adding the home address before he decides that the guy can get that information himself. He's still not quite sure about this situation. Brendan is always available after school hours, there should be no problem getting in touch.

He hands the paper over the desk.

"You're doing well?" he inquires, out of pure curiosity. He probably won't see this guy again, might as well use the opportunity to get a story out of him.

"Yeah," he's studying the square piece of paper in his hand, "Got the shoulder fixed."

"It wasn't a break?"

He pockets the paper and swings his arm slightly as a demonstration. "Fucked up the joint. Got me three months of rehab. Couldn't get out to fight for the last year so it healed good."

_Oh yeah? Just where did they take you that you couldn't get out until now?_ Frank thinks but doesn't voice it. "Not a great year?" he asks and only receives a curt nod.

"Had better," the man answers vaguely, turning to watch the fighters practicing outside the office.

"And you're back for good now or what?" Frank retreats onto safer ground.

"Couple weeks," he keeps watching the training, "Nice place"

He thanks him, grinning despite himself. He loves hearing his achievements receiving compliments. It does wonders for the ego and reminds him that he worked for something successfully.

The clock on his wall gives a chime, reminding him that technically, he should get back to work and the sandwich in his bag should have been eaten by now.

The visitor doesn't even glance at it. He half-twists around and raises his hand in an indication of thanks and goodbye. Frank keeps his eyes on him as he weaves through the crowd in the gym and heads out. He gets more than a few stares from the guys around.

He's still a bit dumfounded by this strange encounter. Who knew that Brendan's brother was ever going to appear back in the picture?

Only after he's finished eating does it occur to him that he should have gotten the guy's picture to put up on his wall of world-class fighters.


	3. Dinner

Tess has just settled the girls in front of the TV when she hears Brendan's call from the front door. Rose and Emily are drowsy, she has kept them busy today and since the Lion King is on, they don't jump up to see their Dad right away.

She leaves them sprawled on the pillows to continue the film and makes her way to the door. There's Brendan, dumping his briefcase and duffel on the floor to envelop her in a kiss. She lets him, marvelling at his enthusiasm after a long day.

He coaches a school team now, guys who have become interested in a bit of MMA since they saw him win the greatest tournament in history. Somehow the school board let that one slide under the guise of 'contact sport'. Once he had the principal on his side, it all snowballed and now it takes up his Mondays and Wednesdays. Generally he immediately heads to the kitchen for a bite on these days.

Not today.

He leans back with a grin on his face and now she knows something is up. She raises an eyebrow at him, "What? Did you get promoted?"

"Even better," he turns a little to nod his head in the direction of the door, "Guess who's outside"

"Santa?" she quips.

He grins, knowing he's got her curious now, "Close. Where are the girls?"

"Fawning over Simba in the living room"

He takes her hand and leads her to the front yard. She's entirely bewildered, running through all kinds of options in her head. Who on earth could be so thrilling that even her cool-headed husband is practically buzzing with excitement?

Then she sees _him_ and stops dead in her tracks.

He's standing in their drive, hands shoved deep into his pockets, simply wandering up and down the road a few steps. When the two of them come out, he cracks a nervous semblance of a smile.

"Your brother?" she mutters in disbelief, staring at the man as though she can't really believe he is on their property. It's been just about two years and this is the last thing she expected, "What…I mean, where did you…?"

"He called me an hour ago and to tell me he was in town. Said he wanted to see us," Brendan helps her out, "I picked him up at that mall near Frank's"

She just can't take her eyes off him as he comes up the lawn. He looks much better than when she last saw him, a bit toned down but still the same face, the same intense stare. She really didn't think he would take up her offer, it's been that long. Sure, Brendan has been on the phone with him every now and again, simply trying to establish some contact after all those years. But now he's here and it's a bit surreal, like he's some ghost.

He greets her with a nod, keeping his hands in his pockets and she's weirdly glad he doesn't want a formal handshake. "Hope it's alright I drop in"

"Sure," she says, still reeling from surprise, "Sure. Have you eaten?"

He shakes his head and she's happy to be able to do something, some menial chore that will ease up the tension inside her a bit. She honestly doesn't know why she's so antsy. Maybe it's the memory of the aftermath, Brendan returning with a heavily beaten body and a handful of cracked bones. Maybe it's the way her husband is acting, so full of positive anticipation.

Brendan ushers his brother inside, still looking mighty pleased that he managed to spring the unexpected on her. She glances back to see Tommy taking his time, looking around at everything in the hallway and soaking up details. Instantly zeroing in on the framed pictures on the wall, their timeline of family moments. A muscle jumps in his jaw but he keeps his eyes fixed on them.

She pauses on her way to the kitchen and meets her husband's gaze. He is brimming with happiness. She can see that in the slight glaze of his eyes. She knows he didn't think that, even though they have started to patch things up roughly, his brother would come around to see them.

A thought occurs to her. She clears her throat to get the other man's attention too. "I was just going to get the girls ready for bed but if you want to say hi real quick, you're welcome to"

The offer takes him aback. She can see the indecision cross his face as he chews on the right answer. Then he shrugs and nods his approval. She lets him follow her to the living room, where she switches off the movie under protests.

"Got to get ready for bed, sweetheart," she tells Rose, who tries to whine her way out of this. Emily is getting up and stretching the stiffness away, "But Dad and I want you to meet someone first. This is... Uncle Tommy"

She looks up at the fighter, who seems horribly at a loss with two pairs of children's eyes giving him curious stares. She sees him swallow and try a smile. Incredible, how such a fearless, hardened man can be embarrassed in front of two little girls.

"That's Emily," she nods over to the older girl, "You want to go say hello, honey?"

The nine-year-old obeys, sticks out her hand for Tommy to shake. He does so and she can see how careful he is with the girl. She wouldn't have associated him with a soft streak for the kids, especially after Brandon mentioned his brother's disinterest in any family outside their own. Emily seems to bring out a new emotionality without even saying anything.

Her daughter looks intrigued. She asks him why he has all these drawings on his arms.

He actually heaves a quiet chuckle. Tess is surprised at the joviality of the sound. "I'm a forgetful guy, so I draw all the important memories on me. Helps me remember. You look just like your Dad, you know?" he tells Emily.

"Everyone says that," the girl responds. Just like that, Tommy has moved into the 'Like-any-other-adult' category.

Tess intervenes and tells her to head upstairs to the bathroom. Then she nudges Rose forward from behind her leg. "And this is Rosie. She turned six in April"

The head of blond curls peeks up at the guest in awe and he actually crouches down so that he is almost as short as her. Never mind that he is easily three times her width. Her youngest just looks at him so he doesn't offer his hand. "Now you," he tells her, "You're like your mom. Get the pretty eyes from her"

Tess has no idea if he's just saying that as a sweet remark for her daughter or if he means it. She doesn't really know how it would make her feel if it was a heartfelt comment.

Rose seems to like it and in trying to instinctively compliment Tommy back, her childishly honest response ends up a bit different. "You have scary eyes"

"Yeah? How're they scary?" he probes.

"Like my maths teacher. He always looks at me like that," she explains, ducking her head a little. Tess quickly scoops her up in her arms, which immediately earns her a squeak of excitement. She loves getting carried around, especially piggyback. Brendan is more often than not reduced to playing the girl's ride.

"Let's get you into pyjamas then," she tells her, then meets Tommy's gaze as he straightens, "I bet Brendan is fixing you up some food. I'll be right down"

He lets her pass without a comment and the little girl gives him a smile as she is carried away. Tess takes her time with her daughters, all the while bearing in mind that this introduction may be a start to Tommy becoming a greater role in their lives. If she even wants that to happen. She knows Brendan would be all for it but somehow, she can't wrap her head around the man being that kind of relative. She wonders why he came, what has happened in the last year.

Of course Emily and Rose ask who he is as well, ever curious about what kind of uncle he is. She tells them the stripped down version of the story, leaving out the details while they brush their teeth. They want to know if he'll come back again soon. She doesn't know and skirts around the answer as she runs a brush through Rosie's hair.

By the time she's got them both at least settled in bed with the reading lamp on and kissed them goodnight, it's seven thirty. The brothers are sitting in the kitchen over two empty plates and talking in hushed tones when she comes in. Brendan pulls her up a chair.

"How have you been?" she asks, taking a swig from her husband's beer, "We didn't think you'd come by"

"Better. I'm on leave now," he replies, gripping his own bottle, "There was a stuff to deal with last year, now I'm finishing the service"

She furrows her brow. "And before?"

He doesn't need to ask what she's referring to. "They took me into custody after the hospital. Held a bunch of trials in the first four months, while I was gettin' therapy for the shoulder. I got lucky that they didn't send me to prison. Talked a lot about saving lives, trauma and all that. Took them ages to figure out the consequences for me"

"So you're still in the Marines?" she clarifies and gets a nod.

"Three years"

Brendan must have already heard this earlier because he isn't intervening as he usually would. She wonders if he's known about this all along, the amount of times he's called Tommy. He hasn't spoken about it but then again, she assumes the soldier hasn't opened up about it much. The tension in her husband's shoulders tells her he's not happy with the situation. All of them know there's nothing to be done about it.

There's a prolonged silence after this declaration in which Brendan clears their plates and Tommy downs the rest of his beer.

Finally the soldier speaks up again. He's talking to both of them but his eyes never stray from his brother. "Y'know maybe I wouldn't have come. I waited a long time. I didn't know if I wanted to see what you made for yourself here," he breaks off, takes a moment to collect himself, "But I owe you a thank you"

The Conlons exchange a glance. Tess asks carefully, "For what?"

There's no mistaking the look Tommy gives them. He's taking this beyond seriously. "I know you sent her 500,000. She called to tell me what a wonderful, generous brother I have. That she'll be eternally grateful," he pauses, watching their reactions, "You didn't have to do that"

Instead of denying it, Brendan says, "You didn't think I would?"

"Not for the asshole that beat the shit out of you over a grudge," he mocks himself.

"That asshole is my brother. And I owed him that much," Brendan is firm but solemn and he stands behind his seat, across from Tommy. "I wanted to do this for that woman because I know that's what you were fighting for. And for you. I know what family means."

She can sense the Marine cracking with every word, a tiny bit at a time. A slight gleam develops in his eyes and when Brendan's done, he lowers them.

When he tells them, "Thank you," he voice is hoarse. He says it twice, three times, as though one doesn't make it okay and with each repetition Tess can feel the genuine gratitude. It's doesn't fit her picture of him at all and at the same time, it's desperately real.

It's Brendan who eventually rounds the table and pulls his brother from his seat into an embrace. They just stay there, Brendan initiating and Tommy accepting the gesture.

That evening, Tess is the one who sheds tears for the most beautiful act of forgiveness she's ever seen.


	4. Birthday

Emily is running around with a tray to collect empty champagne glasses. She's a big girl now; she knows that Mom trusts her to be careful enough with them. It's Dad's 34th birthday today and they're having a big barbeque for all of their family friends.

Even grandpa is here. He was usually never here for any of their birthdays. Mom explained that he lived far away and it was difficult for him to drive over all the time.

He came for Christmas last year and they all had dinner together. He brought her little sister a doll and she got a book about the solar system. She suspects Dad told him that she loved learning about stars and the universe, because Grandpa had never met her before. At least she can't remember. Anyway, he couldn't have known.

He's sitting next to the neighbour that she only knows as Old Roger and looks really content. He's a nice person, Emily thinks and wonders for the millionth time why he hasn't visited them earlier. He's not _that_ old. He has his own car.

She takes the full tray into the kitchen. She has the very important job of making sure everything is in order here. She has taken all the finished salads back inside earlier. The bowls are in the dishwasher. She got Dad an extra plate when he asked for it. Stuff like that.

She's the only one that hears the doorbell ring because everyone is out back and there's music on. It's already past nine. She wonders who would show up for Dad's party three hours late.

She pulls the door open and takes a moment to place the face. She remembers him. "Uncle…Tommy?"

He stares back at her, apparently shocked that she recalls his name. It's been a long time. He's got a bunch of flowers in his right hand and a wrapped bottle in his left. "Yeah," he says, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration, "And you're…?"

"Emily," she reminds him, pulling the door open wider to let him step inside. She turns her lips down in a disapproving frown, "You're really late you know. Everyone's already eaten"

He doesn't seem to be phased by her observation. "It's hard to get a ride to your place out here"

"Why don't you have a car? Can't you drive?" she asks curiously as she leads him into the kitchen to find a vase for the flowers. He follows her, looking at the balloons floating around the floor, each with a big fancy number written on it in Sharpie. They put a lot of work into the balloons and she's convinced that hers still look the best.

"Just never got around to buying a car. Maybe I'll do that," he answers, handing her the bouquet with a half-smile, "So I can be on time for the next birthday"

She can feel his eyes on her as she fills the vase with water and snips the rubber band away to arrange the flowers better. He's probably going to say something about her getting really big like all the other people today. She really doesn't know why family friends say that, like it would make her proud. She doesn't actually _feel_ bigger.

She puts the finished masterpiece on the kitchen table with all the others. It's like a florist's shop in here. She gives him a grin. "How'd you know Mom likes red Gerberas best?"

He snorts at the question, putting the bottle on the counter. "Lucky guess."

She laughs at the sarcasm that he is not even bothered to hide. He can be funny, even if he looks like most of the bad guys she sees on television.

"Where's your dad?" he continues and she waves for him to follow her. Everyone is all over the garden, standing, sitting, laughing, talking. She pauses on the patio to look across the back and feels him stop behind her.

Everything is looking really pretty, they put up strings of lanterns in the morning and now they're all shining in the gloom. The only other light is the barbeque that is still glowing with heat. She finally finds her Dad in the crowd and points him out to the new guest.

He mumbles something unintelligable and pats her on the head before he heads off in that direction. Honestly, why do adults have to do that? It makes her look like a pet. A moment later, she feels a light hand on her shoulder and looks up to see Paddy Conlon beside her. "Your mother's looking for you. I think she has another job for you," he tells her in that scratchy, kind grandpa voice of his.

"Okay," she nods and is just about to go find her when she feels his fingers suddenly clench harder into her shoulder. Emily follows his gaze to see that he is staring at Tommy's back.

The man has reached his brother, tapping him on the arm. Her dad takes a look over his shoulder, freezes, and then virtually tackles him into a hug. It takes a long moment before they pull apart and exchange a few words.

She keeps watching as her Dad slings an arm around the shorter man's shoulders and begins introducing him to the people around him. Then she glances up at the person next to her. She is shocked to see tears running down his wrinkly face.

"Grandpa?"

The tears keep coming but he smiles down at her. He looks happy despite the crying. She is very confused. It takes him a second before he gives her a reassuring squeeze and says, "Everything's alright. You go on and find your Mom"

She does, just because she doesn't know what to do. She immediately tells her about the new flowers in the kitchen. Mom looks just as surprised as Dad that he showed up and Emily is starting to think that maybe she shouldn't have let him in if he wasn't invited. Nobody seems to have expected him.

"It's alright honey, I'm sure Dad's happy to see him," her Mom assures her, "You still remembered him?"

"Of course. The man with the drawings on his arms," she jokes, "It's really weird though. Grandpa started crying when he saw him hug Dad"

She gets a strange expression spreading over Mom's face as she says that. Then she sighs, "You know, in a couple of years, Dad will probably tell you all about that. But today he just wants to be spending his birthday with his friends and having a great party. Don't worry about Grandpa"

She shrugs and nods, looking back across the lawn at the brothers who are now moving away from the others to sit on the bench at the garage.

Her mother's voice pulls her back from her daydream. "Do you mind checking up on Rosie? I think she went upstairs earlier"

"Sure"

And she's off again, going inside the house and jogging up the stairs on tiptoes. She calls quietly for her sister. Receiving no answer, she opens Rose's room. The lights are on but the girl has curled up on a nest of pillows and blanket. She's burrowed into it on the ground, clothes and all, asleep.

She has to smile at the mess of dolls and stuffed animals on the carpet. Rose was probably bored with the adult talk downstairs. Having eaten three whole plates full, she's probably so stuffed she just couldn't keep her eyes open.

She takes the extra blanket from the foot of her sister's bed and spreads it over the girl. Then she switches off the light. She's just about to close the window so it doesn't get cold overnight when she glimpses the three men on the grass below.

She knows it's really not polite to eavesdrop but she's interested. This room overlooks the front and side of the house so she can see the top and back of the garage and if she sticks her head out to the right, the front of their drive.

It's Uncle Tommy and Dad and the third person is Grandpa, who is approaching them slowly. She strains to hear what Tommy says but he's quiet when he talks and it doesn't drift up to where she stands. Dad's voice is much clearer though.

"Pop's been coming over again since last year. After the tournament, it was time to make things right. He's wanted to be a part of the girls' life and when he showed me that he'd been sober for so long, I decided to give him that chance."

"Forgive and forget," Tommy tells him, "That's always been your piece of cake"

Grandpa calls Tommy's name, meandering closer to the bench where they sit. His voice is carrying over now; she can identify his words too. "You know, I never thanked you"

The man's words are cautious, almost suspicious. "What for?"

Grandpa's voice is shaky and Emily wonders if he's still crying. "Your mother, she stayed alive much longer with you than if she would've stuck by me. Everything you did for her…I apologised but I never thanked you"

There's a silence. Emily doesn't have a great understanding of this conversation but she feels that there's something important going on. Twelve-year-olds have that much sense. The quiet spreads until the big man right beneath her raises his head.

"I didn't do it for you," Tommy finally replies.

"I know," Paddy stops in front of them, "But you and Brendan were everything she had left. You were there with her. So thank you"

She imagines she can hear the tears in his words. People's voices always crack when they're crying or go strange, and right now, Grandpa's voice hitches a lot more. She thinks if she stood down there right now, she would probably have the urge to hug him to make him feel better. But the two men don't.

There's another prolonged stillness between the three of them and Emily thinks she's missing something. She leans out just a fraction, just enough to actually see the tops of their heads beneath her.

Eventually, Uncle Tommy slides over to the end of the bench. Her Dad scoots over a fraction too. She hears Grandpa make a noise that sounds relieved, sad and tired at the same time. She watches him shuffle closer and take a seat between the two brothers.

It's a weird picture. They look like a jury, sitting in a row, staring out ahead silently at invisible contestants.

The fascinating part seems to be over and she quietly closes the window.

She's already out of the room when Tommy looks across at the remaining family he has and says, "Hey, Brendan? Tell me this was your birthday wish"


	5. Pittsburgh

Mark has never been to Pittsburgh before and it's definitely the first time he chooses to spend his time on leave away from his girlfriend and family to come here.

He's out of his uniform, which is a relief because he knows he would get asked questions if he was. The area he's been referred to here seems to be the kind where everything gets turned into gossip the moment a new kid shows up.

He's thinking of grabbing a coffee when he sees a couple of guys in sweats crossing the street up ahead. Both of them have a sports bag slung over their shoulder. It's a long shot but he brakes anyway, leaning through the open window.

"Hey, are you two training somewhere around here?" he calls, pulling up alongside them. He knows he shouldn't but the street is empty this early in the day.

One of them throws a dismissive glance his way but as he catches sight of the dog tags hanging from Mark's neck, he pauses.

"What d'you want?" the second one barks and he has to repress the urge to get out and tell him to get over himself. But he's not here for trouble of any kind, quite the opposite.

"I'm looking for Tommy Riordon, or Conlon. You know about him?"

The first one rolls his eyes and the second one jeers with laughter, "You kiddin'? Everyone knows that guy. Fuckin' celebrity round here since Atlantic City. Heard he came back to town"

"You wouldn't have his address?" Mark pushes but they both shake their heads.

"Real private guy," the first one tells him, "You want any info, you're probably best off looking in the phone book. Or Colt's place"

The soldier would gladly pester for more but a car is driving up behind him so he just nods at the men and pulls back onto the road. Google maps does the rest for him though - as it turns out Colt's Fight Club is what they were referring to.

He does take the hint and stops by the place. It's a little run down on the outside but as he pushes through the door, he can see that it's popular enough. There are guys all over the place, boxing, fighting or working out.

He does get some help from the one at the front desk who is initially reluctant and raises an eyebrow at the tags dangling from Mark's neck. Maybe he should have taken those off too if he'd known that people get all restless about them. Eventually he gets an address after he has spent twenty minutes explaining his cause. Or the guy just wanted to get him off his desk.

He does grab a coffee and wastes another half hour driving around looking for the place until he parks across the right building. It's eleven in the morning now and he takes a beat to collect his thoughts.

He knows what he wants to do can be done in five minutes but he drove all the way to Pittsburgh to make sure it's done right. He's been planning this ever since four odd years ago on the day he was sure he would die.

He gets out and finds the name on the mailbox of the house. It's small, but from what he's heard through the grapevine, the guy doesn't have family. And it's secluded out here too. He looks around and there's barely anyone on the road. Seems like the ideal place to find peace and quiet.

He takes a deep breath and knocks three times.

There's a long, drawn out silence in which he starts thinking that the guy is probably not home. Or that he's seen him pull up and is purposely ignoring him. He's already thinking of turning back and trying this again tomorrow when there's a rustle of bolts on the inside and the door is pulled open.

All this time he's had to prepare himself and yet he finds it overwhelming to be in the former Marine's presence. The guy is an inch or two shorter than him but he still manages to seem threatening as hell.

There's a toothpick between his lips and he's bare-chested, looking very much like he's just been doing hard manual work. He's looking Mark up and down, obviously not quite sure what to do with him until his gaze lands on the chain he's wearing. Just like everyone else, his stance instantly changes.

He clears his throat, "Sorry to interrupt you. My name's Mark Bradford," he holds out his hand for the shorter man to shake, "I'm here on behalf of my squad"

Tommy Conlon's hand clenches around his as he adds the last words. It seems to be an involuntary reaction. His dark eyes snap up to hold Mark's, flashing dangerously.

"I was discharged months ago. What the hell do you want?" he says and Mark finds himself comparing the gravelly voice to that night back then in Iraq. It's difficult to place.

"This is a personal visit. I'm here on my own terms," he assures him, pulling his hand away, "I understand if you don't remember who I am but I can explain all this"

The other man still doesn't budge from his spot. He doesn't shut the door in his face either though. That alone gives Mark enough confidence to go through with his plan and ask, "Mind if I come in? It won't take long"

There's a moment of him chewing his toothpick thoughtfully, sizing up the visitor before finally stepping away from the door. He turns his back on Mark and walks inside. The soldier takes that as his cue to follow.

The corridor smells freshly painted and there's a ladder standing open in the middle with boxes of bulbs on the ground. There seems to be renovating going on.

He walks around the array of utensils around him and eventually takes a seat on the only sofa in the living room. Tommy remains across from him, leaning against a single bookshelf. Other than that, it's still quite empty.

"Did you just move in?" Mark wonders aloud and isn't all that surprised when he doesn't get an answer. The man shifts and crosses his arms over his chest.

"I don't know you. What you here for that's personal?"

He knows there's no easy way to start this so he goes over the basics again, carefully gauging the other's reaction. "Like I said, my name's Mark. I served in Iraq, Ramadi. I believe you were stationed there too. In 2011, right?"

"Yeah," there seems to be a dawning of realisation on the older man's face but he's quick to tuck it away behind the controlled mask.

"Well, I don't know if you ever saw it but we sent a video message home during your participation in that big MMA fight. I was sure they broadcasted it on television."

A shake of the head, eyes straying towards the corridor again.

Mark leans forward, hands on his knees, looking up earnestly. "I saw you on YouTube and realized who you were. I didn't know what had happened, where you were or that you were not on official leave so I didn't think about any consequences of telling people about my discovery. At that point I was just thinking, man, that Tommy Riordon, that's the hero," he takes a breath, memories flashing back, "The guy who saved my squad and me. That night in the tank we almost drowned and you were just there to rescue the lives of people you didn't know. You did the impossible"

"We're trained to cover each other's backs," Tommy replies, "Doesn't matter that I didn't know who was inside the tank"

Mark is honestly baffled by this guy. He seems to simply want to refuse to take any credit whatsoever for saving a whole bunch of lives. A person doing what he did deserves a whole lot of reward and here he is, pressed against a shelf and looking uncomfortable at the prospect of any gratitude extended to him.

"Look," he gets up but keeps his distance, hoping his body language is enough to prove that his intentions are honest, "I came here to thank you in person and for everyone else in my group back then. I owe you my life. I know you must have been through a lot of shit these past years but I just needed to come in person and let you know, anything you need, you can ask. I owe it to you"

"You don't owe me anything," the Marine says and its not angry but a sense of finality lies in his tone, "Army was army. It's all about saving lives over there"

"Come on man, don't tell me you did it just because it was your duty. You know it wasn't," Mark exclaims just because he can't help himself. This guy is unbelievable in his denial.

"You're welcome," is all the reply he gets.

Then Tommy pushes away from his spot and walks back to the unfinished ladder business. Like the conversation never happened. Mark stays there for a second, stumped. That sure wasn't one of the many reactions he'd anticipated when he decided to come.

He runs a hand over his face, glances out into the hallway where his secret hero is rummaging through a box. The domestic picture just doesn't fit the insanely brave man back then. He shakes his head just to get it into his brain. This guy won't say any more on the subject. It's done.

Nevertheless, he leafs through his wallet and leaves his card on the shelf before he goes. If Tommy Riordan wants to burn it he can, but at least he tried.

He meets the man's eye once more as he moves past him to head to the front door. Mark can't think of anything else but to give him a respectful nod and a half-smile. To his surprise, the Marine actually returns the gesture and adds, "Good luck over there. Take care"

"You too," he tells him.

He's almost out the door when Tommy calls out one more time. He looks back to see his savior halfway up the ladder, arms dangling over. The tattooed man is looking like he's not sure how to formulate the words to make them sound right. "Thank you accepted"

Mark has to smile as he unlocks his car. Mission accomplished.


	6. Coffee

The city is quiet this time of day. It's getting colder outside now that autumn has finally hit Pittsburgh and Paddy has to slip into his jacket as he leaves the building.

Today is the 168th meeting that he's been sober after his relapse. They meet once weekly.

He's feeling great despite the chill settling in his old bones as he gets into his car. He likes the silence as he drives, thinking about everyone that has shared today and his own success in keeping clean for the last three odd years. Ever since Atlantic City. He's moved on from Moby Dick.

He hums a song that he's picked up recently after a visit to Brendan's. Rosie was just learning to play it on piano and he loves the simple tune. Even more so because his granddaughter can perform it quite beautifully.

A lot has changed and for the better. He's patched things up with his oldest son for the most part and his family accepts him. There's still that underlying wariness and every time he comes around, he can tell that his older son keeps a close eye on him. Even so, he couldn't be gladder that he gets to be part of their lives. He makes sure to live up to his role as grandpa, coming by once a month.

It's a blessing. He loves every minute of it.

He pulls up in front of his home, shuts off the motor and looks up to see Tommy leaning against the wall beside his front door. He feels his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

Brendan had called to tell him that he'd been discharged but none of them knew where he'd gone since then. Well, until the night of Brendan's birthday. After that he took off again, not breathing a word about his destination.

Paddy figured he needed time for himself to get his head back in the right place after almost two decades of army service. He told Brendan to stop worrying. Despite him being drunk for most of their adolescence, he'd always known that Tommy preferred solitude to think or straighten out after a rough time. That much he'd picked up.

But to see him standing on his doorstep is a rush of déjà vu. The last time his youngest was here and waiting for him, it was the beginning of a long process of training and his attempts to redeem himself in Tommy's eyes. One that caused a chain of events he could have never foreseen.

Paddy still doesn't really know where he stands with him. He likes to think its on better terms than before SPARTA, even though Tommy adamantly refused to think of that period of training as a bonding mechanism. He sent him letters when he was back in the Marines but received no answers.

Speaking to him at Brendan's birthday changed something though. What they have is a far cry from a healthy father-son relationship for sure, but Paddy feels like they have taken a tiny step in that direction.

He gets out slowly, walking up to the pavement. There's a dog barking in the distance and the air is even colder now that the sun has just dipped behind the houses. He looks at Tommy, who meets his gaze squarely in the dimness.

"Didn't I give you a key back then?" Paddy asks, slowly climbing the steps to his door. His knees are more rebellious now than four years ago. Or maybe it's just the weather.

"Didn't keep it," his son responds, digging his hands deeper into his sweatshirt pockets, "You letting me in for a coffee, old man?"

Just like that, he's placed them back on a level of conversation that could almost be normal. Paddy blinks a couple of times to realize that he really is here, really is speaking to him like there hasn't been another three-year rift between them.

"I thought you don't drink that stuff," he unlocks the door with sure hands and gestures for Tommy to come in anyway.

"Had enough time to change my mind," the former Marine says as he lets himself in and sheds his jacket. "I picked up new habits"

"You're not back on those pills again, are you?" he inquires as he flips on the lights in the living room and kitchen. He coughs in the sudden warm dryness of the house and puts on a pot of coffee. Tommy comes up behind him and sits at the tiny table.

"Nah," he cracks his neck, "Dropped it the day you took 'em"

"Good," is all Paddy can think of and then there's silence between the two while the coffee bubbles and brews. He observes Tommy, whom he's last seen months ago in Philadelphia, where he embraced Brendan like there had never been any distance at all. It had probably been the proudest moment of Paddy's life to see them that close again.

He's lost bulk since the War on the Shore. That much is obvious but more than that, he looks well. That threatening shadow that seemed to stick to him when he first came back to the country is gone. He's not filling the room with that repressed, dangerous aura. There's a new kind of calm.

"Where've you been since May?" he asks his son, placing a full mug in front of him. He still recalls him scoffing at sugar and cream.

"After the birthday? Everywhere. Rented a car in Texas and drove around the country from there," he sips the drink, "Most of the guys got family or a woman to go back to. I didn't have a plan. I wasn't going to ask to bunk with Brendan. I needed to get myself sorted"

Just as he had thought. Paddy takes a sip of his own coffee and quickly puts it down. He doesn't know how Tommy can drink something that is still that hot. "Have you?"

"Down in Texas, I stayed with someone," Tommy starts.

"The widow?"

His son pauses to take a breath, glances up at him. "Yeah. We talked. She's been real supportive. I don't know how she does it, workin' with two kids on her hands. Y'know Brendan donated prize money to her?"

Paddy shakes his head. "He never said but I thought he did," he stirs some milk into his mug, "You visited for three months?"

"One. Helped her fix the house up a bit. She needed a guy around, someone to help her with the kids and work," Tommy explains, "And I wanted to be needed"

He wishes he could understand where his son is coming from. He can sympathise but he can't say he had the same experience. When he returned from his service, he found solace in alcohol and it ruined his family and almost his entire life. He replaced purpose with oblivion. He didn't have that desire to be needed again but at least he can empathise with the loneliness.

"Did she give you answers?"

The younger man shrugs, "She made me talk it out. I think that was good enough," he gulps down more coffee, "I drove to the West after that. Felt good to see something new"

They both don't say the rest. Something different after years of desert heat, mountains, blood and bullets. Something that didn't remind in the least of the things he's been dragging around with himself.

"And now you've come back to the Burgh?"

A solid nod and there's a toothpick in Tommy's hand that he's fiddling with, concentrating on the object.

Paddy doesn't know what to say. He can't fathom his son's reasoning behind returning. He finally settles for a question that he knows will probably not be answered but an old father can hope. "To see me?"

Weirdly enough, the man opposite him doesn't outright deny it. "Home's where the heart is, right?"

"Tommy…" he says, disbelieving, but his son silences him with a sharp glance. He evidently still has something he wants to say.

"I got a house downtown. Moved in two weeks ago. I'm still working on it but it's done soon. I came back so I can be around Brendan. There's a lot we missed," he pauses, glancing up at his father before revealing his actual intentions, "And I need you to get me back in shape"

Paddy has this vertigo spreading through his body that is making his ears buzz and his eyes well up. He is touched. Beyond that even, stunned at the turn of events today. It doesn't matter that Tommy has once again not declared any love for him and that his main focus is his brother. He's here. And he wants to stay and he's not shutting him out of his life again. He takes a minute to realize that he's mentioned training.

"You want to get back in the cage?" he questions, successfully keeping his voice level.

"Colt's made an offer. I just hit thirty, pop. There's a whole lot of years I can do this. It's what I'm cut out for. And I want _you_ to help me," he says it firmly but its not a demand this time. They're not in the same situation as in 2011, Paddy knows the terms of this contract now. It's a request. He can always say no.

"You'll pay me this time?" he finally asks with a hint of a smile tugging at his lip.

Tommy's eyes narrow over his coffee but it's not spiteful. Almost bemused, he shrugs, "If I get family discount"

"If you're sure it's what you want. You got yourself a deal, son," Paddy reaches out his hand, elbow propped up on the table, giving him an expectant look. The former marine doesn't hesitate to take it. It's a clasping of hands that signifies another start for them. Paddy can feel it in his aging, sober soul. He takes a rattling breath and forces the lump in his throat back but he smiles wide.

Tommy finishes his coffee and leans back in his chair. Paddy sums up the courage to ask about him receiving the letters. He nods but doesn't acknowledge their contents. They talk about safe subjects for a while. Despite the invisible boundaries, there's a sense of familiarity that Paddy has missed. Simply the fact that conversation is taking place without straining to identify his son's ulterior motives. He thinks that whatever happened to change Tommy in these past months, he is glad it did.

Later, he offers him dinner but that is declined. His son says he should head back because he's having kitchen furniture delivered tomorrow. Paddy walks him to the front door and hands him the sweatshirt. It's the same one he wore to Atlantic City, he notes. It's fully dark now and the temperature has dropped at least another five degrees.

Tommy pauses on the doorstep, turns to look at him one more time before he goes. He appears to contemplate something for several seconds. His face is pale in the darkness and in the youthful features, there's a something like apprehension as he faces the house. Then Paddy suddenly finds his son wrapping an arm around him in a brief but powerful hug.

It barely lasts two seconds in which Paddy just manages to bring up his own arm to return the gesture. Despite that, he feels he's never had a more magical moment with his son since the boy was born.

Tommy backs off, walks down the steps and pulls his hood over his head as he hits the street. He doesn't look back as he leaves but Paddy stays there, watching him go.

That night, he goes to bed feeling the happiest he has in many years.


	7. Running

She hasn't been in town that long but she quickly pinpoints that there are ideal routes to go running in the mornings.

She's staying with her mother and the new husband, just until she makes a plan for herself. It was convenient to return to Pittsburgh even though she's been away for years. She remembers getting the hell away as soon as she finished high school.

The last ten years in Miami were a sum of ups an downs but university was a release after her childhood years, her job was a welcome challenge and her first long-term relationship made her truly happy. She'd rarely been homesick, always content to visit for a couple of days a year and leave it at that.

Until her fiancé got caught in a car accident of insane proportions. He passed less than twenty-four hours later in his hospital bed. Her head simply hasn't been in the right place since then. She needed to get out of the city and Pittsburgh was the only option she could arrange fast enough.

Her mom doesn't ask a lot of questions, realizing she needs time to stomach the past few weeks. She's got the guest room ready when she arrives, let's her have the space to break down and hole up for several days. Eventually the couple decides she needs to be kept busy and arrange for her to take care of the neighbour's dog during the day.

But even a mother and a border collie can only do so much. She doesn't want to sit around soaking in her grief any longer, she can't. The feeling of emptiness won't go away and she knows if keeps this up, she'll be dragging herself into a hole she won't come out of. She's barely spoken to any of her friends since leaving.

There's this constant restlessness inside her, this mix of emotions she can't even begin to pick apart. So much grief, frustration and bone-weary sadness that has settled inside her since his death. She finds her only outlet in running it off.

The roads are quiet here, nothing like the constantly packed atmosphere of the sunshine state. The autumn chill settles on her sweatshirt and despite the run, it seeps through her jogging pants and makes her legs feel frosty.

She reaches the top of the slope and pauses to catch her breath, looking out over the suburbs below her. It's not all that terrible, even compared to the incredible view she has out of her apartment in Miami. Her memories of this place are of a grey, ugly mass but from up here, it looks like the city really has character. Maybe she should have come back earlier, under different circumstances.

Natalie pulls the scarf tighter around her neck. She's not used to these temperatures. She picks up her pace again, heading down the other side of the hill. At some point another early runner turns up on the same road, soon passing her.

The music in her ears blocks out surrounding noise so she starts a little when he suddenly streaks past her. She glimpses a strong, flushed profile under the beanie.

Eventually he turns a corner ahead and is gone from her field of vision. Her lungs are burning in the cold air but she keeps up her pace, setting herself an inner challenge to catch up to the figure. He's gone though when she rounds the corner and heads back into her suburb.

Strangely enough, after that chance encounter, she finds herself running the same part of the route as him most of the week. Even though she alternates directions and randomly tries out new streets, he always appears on that last stretch with her. That means he must be running a whole lot further than her three kilometer rounds.

Sometimes he stays behind her before overtaking, sometime he's on the other side of the street and they throw looks at each other across the road as though this is some game they've agreed on. It bothers and somewhat amuses her at the same time and she's come to anticipate his presence, conserving her energy for this last bit just in case.

It not something truly uncomfortable, but for some reason it irks her that he's running here. This is supposed to be her daily journey of emotional coping and he is simply present, crossing her path every time. She can't focus on the purpose of her run anymore. She barely sees any other people out here but he's consistent every day.

After catching him coming up behind her for the tenth time in the two weeks she's been here, she pulls her hood down and turns to face him.

"Hey," she calls, "Are you stalking me?"

He slows but doesn't stop. He's breathing hard and his exhalations rise in barely visible clouds in front of him. He furrows his eyebrows at her in actual confusion. "No"

She plucks out her headphones and matches his slowing run, not letting up just yet, "Sure? Because it looks like you turn up in this spot whenever I'm here"

He doesn't play along with the accusation but he does shoot her a glance at the question and deadpans, "Coincidence."

Natalie just shakes her head, suddenly embarassed with herself. Her suspicion is ridiculous and she honestly doesn't know what made her question him like that. After all she's the tourist here. She feels another glance being sent her way. He hasn't picked up the pace again, allowing her to stay alongside him. "You're not from here," he points out between pants.

"Why do you think that?" she responds, keeping her eyes straight ahead. Having her hood lowered is gradually making her ears freeze.

She thinks his voice lilts with concealed amusement when he comments, "No accent. The scarf"

Just because he's not wearing one doesn't mean she is out of place with hers. She has seen several people with them around. Her hand flies to the thick woollen material and she looks at him indignantly. "There's nothing wrong with this. It's getting cold," and when he doesn't say anything more she admits, "I haven't lived here for ages, just visiting"

He just nods knowingly and doesn't press the subject as they turn the corner together. She is almost triumphant at the fact that she has met her unacknowledged goal of making it to the road bend at the same time. When her house comes up, she slows to a walk. He notices and stops too.

"What?" he asks.

It takes her a second to understand his inquiry. Then she realizes he doesn't know she ends her round over here because he's always overtaken her by this point. His confused expression is rather charming. She immediately wants to kick herself for thinking that. Her fiancé has been buried for a month and she's already finding attractive traits in others.

She gestures to the houses on her right. "My stop"

He just nods again, gives her another curious look before he turns away and continues at a faster jog. She forces herself not to stand around and admire the power of his motions as he keeps running.

By the third week she's staying in Pittsburgh, still unsure about whether or not she wants to return to her home of choice, their runs have turned into some kind of mutual rendezvous without them having to say anything. He still to conveniently pops up the moment she's on that last stretch to her current house.

Now that his presence has become the norm, she somewhat enjoys having a person to be in tune with as she moves. It's a silent companionship most of the time, both have music plugged into their ears but it's the non-verbal support that she appreciates. He clearly slows down for her to be able to keep up and she is oddly warmed by this gesture from someone who is practically a stranger.

Maybe her bristly first words to him translated that she needed company. It actually does makes her feel less lonely here.

Sometimes they do talk and he introduces himself as Tommy and she finds out that he runs for training purposes because he's an athlete. He covers a lot of ground every morning. She can only imagine the level of fitness he has to maintain.

She tells him her name and that she's a trained veterinarian, working as an assistant but looking to start her own place. They talk general topics, never moving into deeper questions in those ten minutes they go together every day.

By the fourth week, she tells her mother she'll look for an apartment. It's a hard decision but she doesn't want to go back to Miami. It's not a logical choice, considering the career she is starting to build for herself there, but one that feels right once it is made. Returning wouldn't be the same, at least not now. She's just starting to work properly, might as well do it in a place where the past isn't hovering everywhere she turns.

It takes another two weeks for her to arrange everything, quit her previous workplace, sell what she has in Miami and get a friend to bring most of her things down. She sits in front of the grave one more time, explaining and apologizing but it doesn't change her mind. She almost misses her own farewell dinner because she feels rooted to the cemetery ground.

There's teary goodbyes, understanding phone calls and she spends one last hour at the beach, her toes in the sand, breathing in the ocean and leaving her doubts in that spot.

She finds a decent place ten minutes outside the city centre and everything goes much faster than she expects. Within a fortnight, Pittsburgh has officially become her residence again and she's not as unhappy about it as she expected.

When she visits her mother to grab her remaining stuff from the spare room, she sees him again. It's six thirty in the morning because she knows her mom leaves for work soon and he's halfway down the road when she drives past. She pulls up, gets out and stands on the pavement with her hands shoved into her coat pockets.

He slows when he sees her waiting and comes up to her with that half-smile he's started to show.

"Look who's back," he says, breathing slightly laboured from the exercise.

She pulls up her shoulders in the cold air, knowing she should have put on a hat. "I didn't want to miss the chance to see some snow this year. How's the running when I'm not here?"

A raised eyebrow. "Faster," he quips and she has to smile at the truth of it. Of course he wasn't going to humour her on that one, "You here for the holidays?"

"No," she draws out the pause for effect, simply to hear herself officially state it out loud, "I'm staying. Just collecting my things and moving it to the new apartment"

Two raised eyebrows. Yes, it is definitely endearing when he has that surprised expression and a reddened nose from the cold. Again, she forces herself to not even acknowledge that thought. He doesn't notice her stare because he is still confused by her news.

"You're moving to the 'Burgh? Why?"

She looks up at him, all grey eyes and light stubble and thinks about the unusual but friendly acquaintance she's made with him since she first came. Something that could actually be friendship. She contemplates for a moment, then does something she would never have considered roughly a month ago.

She reaches for his hand to pull off the glove, ignoring his disapproving grunt as the outside temperature hits his skin. Then she fishes a pen out of her bag and scrawls a number on the wrist.

"How about," she says while she writes, "I tell you about that," she lets go, "over a coffee," she holds out his glove to him, "in a place with decent temperature?"

He looks at her as he pulls his fingers back into the material, then cracks that half-smile. "Sure"

Her life has pretty much been turned upside down in the last couple of months. Even so, she has a feeling that this might be the first step back to normality.


	8. Snow

Brendan gets the feeling that this moment has the potential to go down in history books as the most nostalgic re-union of the Conlon family.

They're standing hundreds of miles away from home on a snow-covered patch of land in the middle of winter. It's probably the most northern part of the Unites States that he's ever visited and he can definitely feel the temperature difference here.

He wriggles his gloved hands in the jacket pockets and glances over at the two men next to him. Tommy stands hunched in his black coat, beanie pulled low as he stares at the patch of ground before him. Paddy is beside him, shivering lightly despite the layers, his trademark cap on his head and wetness in his eyes.

If anyone were to visit this graveyard now, two days before Christmas, they would probably do a double take at the three lonely figures standing in the white landscape.

He remembers that this was Tommy's idea in first place. That he even proposed to buy them the tickets to get over here on such short notice. He thinks he does understand him on this. It's been nineteen years since Tommy left with their mother, five years since their first reunion at the tournament and just about another year since his little brother has returned home for good. He's looking for absolution.

The grave that they're standing in front of, half-covered in snow, says her name in a small engraving. It's a small headstone, barely visible under the white flakes. Each of them connects different memories with her, different emotions and regrets.

Paddy sniffs beside them and Brendan can virtually hear his heart break at the sight of his wife's grave. Her knows fully well that he is in part responsible for her ending here. His sons may have started to reconcile with him over the past years but that doesn't mean she did the same.

Tommy, surprisingly enough, doesn't say anything. He doesn't seem to be aware of his father's reaction. Brendan doubts he had it in mind to torture their father by bringing them here. It's about drawing a line, closing the chapter of their messy past together.

Brendan focuses on the gravestone as well, following the straightness of the letters with his eyes and silently allowing his grief to surface. He still misses her and more than that, misses the years he could have had with her. He _is_ sorry he left Tommy to fend for them on his own, can still only imagine what they both went through. Yet, he would not change it. He loves Tess, always has and his life would have been entirely different if he'd gone with them. He would have been a different person.

Seeing this though, knowing her remains lie underneath the snow, does make the regret flood back. The wetness on his cheek freezes in the icy air and he keeps quiet. It's not unbearable sadness as it was when they had left Pittsburgh, this is just a faint reminder, regret and longing.

It seems they have frozen in place here and Brendan is starting to lose sensation in his toes when Tommy moves. He crouches down, not touching the stone but close to her name. His father rubs a sleeve over his moist face, tries to compose himself.

"She was a strong person," Tommy says and the catch in his voice tells Brendan that he is also making a conscious effort to keep the lump in his throat away, "Even when she was too sick to get out of bed. Those last days she told many stories about you, 'bout your time together before you went into the Corps. What a great man you were"

Brendan looks at his father who has his head bowed. The lines in his face seem all the more defined in the crisp coldness and the wistful words do nothing to wipe the guilt away.

Tommy continues, not looking up at Paddy. "How you blessed her with her two boys. She was real proud of us both. She told me not to resent Brendan even though she knew I did, told me to learn to forgive. Only remember the good parts"

It's his turn to avert his eyes from his brother's back, staring into conifers that are heavy with snow. The guilt coils in his chest and he wants to intervene, apologise all over again even though they've forgiven each other for past decisions. This place makes the wounds feel raw in the winter air. Tommy's words aren't accusations but the truth stings. He left them alone.

"Don't know why she still loved you, Pop. Not after the way we left, not after the times you treated her like…" Tommy trails off, only to come back stronger, "But she did. Maybe she didn't forgive you but she fuckin' loved you anyway"

Paddy crumbles. His entire expression morphs into one of unspeakable desolation and the tears start afresh, wracking his frame even as he tries to keep them silent. Tommy gives a sigh, stands up and faces them again. "She was right"

"Yeah?" Brendan utters, noting without shame that his own voice isn't steady.

Tommy catches his eyes, holds them steadily. "Took me fourteen years but I forgave you"

Brendan smiles, despite the situation, the tragedy of it all. His younger brother looks over at their broken father and oddly enough, a ghost of a smile shows up on his face. It's not sarcastic, not malicious. For once, Brendan thinks that this is what Tommy's real smile must look like. The one he wore more easily lifetimes ago. The former marine puts a hand on Paddy's arm.

"And I forgive you, Pop"

The man doesn't look like he can take anything in anymore. He just fixes overflowing eyes on the both of them and then envelops Tommy in an embrace. For as long as Brendan can remember, there has always been reservation in his brother's movements, some withholding from the other person. But today, at the foot of their mother's grave in a deserted graveyard, he gives in. He holds Paddy back without straining against it.

Eventually Paddy stumbles over to him and does the same. Brendan rests his forehead on the old man's shoulder, breathing out the sorrow that must have resided in him all these years. They remain that way until he becomes aware of his father's shivering and untangles himself. "We should get back to the hotel"

Tommy dips his head in agreement but Paddy swallows heavily and rasps, "Just give me…I need…I need a minute. Alone"

So they sit on a bench some hundred metres away, waiting for Paddy to say his last and final goodbyes. Brendan can't say why but this trip has already changed something. It reminds him of the time the three of them sat at the back of his house on his birthday. There was something there that almost made them a family again, despite the wreckage of the past.

Now he glances at Tommy and sees his little brother again. Not the ex-marine, not the fighter, not the spited man on the shore of Atlantic City but his sibling. It took nearly twenty years to find the bond again but somehow, all the walls have been broken down today. There's no more hard feelings he has towards the younger man and he likes to believe that Tommy has also accepted his actions.

He can't quite wrap his head around it. "You really forgive him?"

"Yeah," Tommy murmurs, "Yeah. Like you said, when you know it's time, it happens"

Brendan nods at two visitors that stroll past them. He stares at their footprints in the snow as they walk away. "Ma really didn't hate me for not going?" he asks quietly, so quietly almost that he isn't sure he actually spoke it out loud.

"Nah. She couldn't"

"That's…" there's no words for it of course. It's just the way it is. But secretly, he is immensely glad. The terrible feeling starts to ebb away. He clears his throat. "Why did you take us here?"

A shrug. "You said you never got to say goodbye"

"So it's not because you knew you could only forgive Pop if you were sure Ma was watching and approving? Because deep down you knew she would have wanted you to," he gives him a look and Tommy doesn't meet his eye, doesn't answer. Brendan knows he's right when there's no reply.

It takes a couple of quiet minutes and the stillness of the snow around them before Tommy says, "I met someone, couple of months ago. She lost her partner this year. Car accident"

There are a million possibilities and connotations Brendan can pinpoint in those two sentences but he refrains from comment, knowing that this probably goes deeper than just meeting a woman. He just sits and waits for the explanation.

"She told me she went back to meet the guilty driver. Guy got away with a concussion and broken arm. She said she forgave him because she knew that her fiancé would have wanted her to. But I needed to see Ma before I could forgive the old man"

Somehow, he does get it. The ghosts of the past do stick around and today was Tommy's opportunity to purge those shadows for good. "Thanks for taking us up here."

His brother just nods, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. "Tess will kill me for taking you away before the holiday"

Both of them crack a meek smile at the thought and it lifts the sombre mood that has settled over them. When Paddy finally makes it over to them, they leave the graveyard in silence, never mentioning the emotional breakdown they just experienced.

In the rental car though, heat cranked up, their father has the need to get something off his chest. "Wasn't just your mother that had reason to be proud of you. I kept everything you boys ever brought home. I knew you'd bring it to something great someday"

"Yeah, world middleweight champion," Tommy mocks his brother, glancing at the passenger seat. For a moment Brendan worries that he's taken it personally after all but there seems to be nothing but good-natured mockery in the man's tone.

"You gotta do what you gotta do," he defends himself and after a moment, becomes pensive. "You think Ma would have been proud of that? Her sons beating each other up?"

It's Paddy who holds the answer to that one. "Doesn't matter. She would have waited with the icepacks anyway"

And that is something they all agree on.


	9. New Years

Her first New Year's Eve in Pittsburgh and Natalie feels that pang of loneliness when she gets up in the morning. It's the last day of a chaotic year and as she puts on a pot of coffee, she takes a beat to reminisce.

After everything that dragged her down, these last two months were somewhat of a road to recovery. She had a really great time with her mother and the rest of the family over Christmas, although that feeling of people tiptoeing around her still persists. She doesn't quite know how to escape the sidelong looks and excessively understanding conversations.

Her present was that pair of boots she'd been looking at that time her mom dragged her out of the house to shop instead of holing up. They're lovely and she knows her mother took cake to pick them out, hoping it would make her happy.

She's also found a job in one of the smaller veterinary clinics in town and because there was a limited personnel when she applied, she moved up in the hierarchy to become one of the full-time doctors. Strangely enough, she loves it there. The workload keeps her busy and all the patients that come in seem to be people that have done so for years and the assistants are on first-name basis with the majority.

The atmosphere is just much more homely than Miami was. The moment she filled the vacancy, everyone was eager to meet her, show her around and get her comfortable in the new workplace.

She's found a good friend in the one assistant, Casey. She's three years younger, just out of university and eager for job experience, but a mature young woman with an insatiable humour. They clicked from the first day and she has periodically dragged Natalie out of the clinic for lunch the past few weeks. Before the holiday leave, her newfound friend invited her to the New Years party at her place.

She is still contemplating if she wants to go or if she should take up her mother's offer and spend the evening with the family. It would definitely be the calmer, less drunk way of greeting the New Year. She takes her coffee to the couch and flicks through the paper, sporadically scanning some of the articles.

She'll probably go over to Casey's, the way a single woman would on this night. She hasn't been out properly since Matt passed away. That excludes the first week after he was buried where she bar hopped three nights in a row and drank her sorrow away. She doesn't want to bring up that memory though so she focuses on the fact that she hasn't let herself have a good time since September and needs to cut herself some slack. Now that's a decent resolution to go by.

Her hand absently runs over the tattoo at the base of the back of her neck. _Today is a gift. _Something she has learned to appreciate.

She finishes her coffee and just because today is the end of the year, she allows herself to be lazy with her usual regime. Instead of going on her morning run, she heads into town, wanders the streets that have become covered in grey slush.

She locates the art supplies store, one of her secret vices. It is something private that she never considered making into a profession (because really, only the very talented can survive on that) but she could never imagine herself drifting away from painting. She likes to think she has some talent for it and it's as different as can be from working in the clinic. In the spirit of a year ending and a fresh start into the new one, she gets a set of acrylics and some canvases.

She skips lunch altogether because she's excited to start. The moment she's changed into an old shirt and leggings, she slips her favourite CD into the stereo and gets down to work.

She's not thinking much as she does it, just listens to the music and lets the emotions carry through the paintbrush onto the blank material. She's absorbing and relieving herself in a mixture of water and colour. There's no distinct image in her head but when she takes a break at one point, she can see that the picture follows some kind of design.

The shadows are growing longer and coating the room in dark stripes by the time she decides she's done. It's only a small piece; not the scale she usually works on but she thinks it turned out great. There's a lot of flashing white streaks mixed in with the navy and grey of the landscape and on a whim, she added a mindless, weaving pattern around the edges. She takes a step back, wiping her paint-stained hands and examines it critically.

It's definitely her in that artwork. Right there, the pronounced dark and light patches, the mingling feelings all laid out in thick acrylic. This is her past few months and her thoughts all on one surface and she feels good. Lighter. Her mind is less crowded. Very often, on days like these where she kicks back and lets her inspiration go wild, she can go sleep easier.

She's just about to head to the shower and then go through the torture of picking out an outfit for later, when a knock on the door interrupts her clearing up.

Tossing the last paints into their designated box and shoving them onto the shelf, she goes to answer. She's pulls it open, takes in the person on the other side and immediately has the urge to close it again. She's completely forgotten until now that she's in her shabbiest, stained shirt. Just wonderful. Not that it should even matter.

Tommy's eyes are intrigued as he leans against the doorframe, dark coat and beanie as always and taking her in. He doesn't say anything but it's hard to miss the way his attention falls on the paint stains.

"Did you say you were coming and I completely forgot?" she blurts, momentarily confused.

He smirks. "No"

"What if I told you this is a really bad time and you're intruding?" she tilts her head, mimicking his pose by leaning against the door.

"Why? Did you get a roommate?" he raises an eyebrow and that alone is enough to make her cave in. He's persistent this one and he barely even knows her that well. The number of times they have met up obviously had him picking up more about than she has about him.

She rolls her eyes at the question. "A roommate? Let's not go into that chapter of my life. College times were _not_ pleasant. Come on in"

She lets him pass and offers him something to drink, which he declines. She leans against her kitchen counter, elbows on the surface. "So what's the news that you just had to come by and surprise me today?"

"I wasn't here for the holidays," he reminds her, "So I couldn't give you a present"

The blood immediately rushes to Natalie's head. He got her a Christmas gift! She completely forgot about anything of the sort, knowing he was out of town. A nice way of saying she didn't think about it at all. She didn't think he was the type to care about material things anyway. She's just about to apologize for not having anything, when he continues, "Something I picked up on the trip. Thought you might like it"

He pulls a small object out of his jacket pocket and hands it to her. She's stumped by the gesture. All she can do is accept it with a curious thank you, staring at the green wrapping. He leaves her to it, wanders around the kitchen a bit while she peels away the paper.

It's a small box and inside she finds a keychain with a carved piece of wood dangling from it. She lifts it out, lays it on her palm. An eagle, wings ready to be spread, each feather defined in the red wood. She recalls mentioning she had a particular affection for birds but she never expected him to remember that detail.

"That's insanely beautiful," she says, still admiring the present, "Is this handmade?"

She looks up but Tommy is no longer in the room. She steps around the corner, sees him standing in the living room. He has found her painting. Despite her usual reservations, she doesn't even mind that he's taking it in before she's decided on whether or not to share it with someone. She walks up to stand next to him.

"You did this?" he asks her, nodding towards the semi-dry canvas.

"It's a hobby. I keep it under lockdown most of the time," she tugs demonstratively at her shirt, "You caught me today"

"You're good," he says and it's blatantly honest. He really thinks so. She has a hunch that he probably isn't into art but he knows when to appreciate something that has had work poured into it. She can't help but smile at the compliment. Sometimes it really doesn't take an entire description of why somebody likes it, but the fact that they do is enough.

"I try," she replies but can't help the pleased smile. Then she holds up the chain, lets it swing on her finger, "This is really great. Where did you get it?"

"Trade secrets," he tells her and Natalie chuckles but leaves it at that. She gives him a quick hug anyway and repeats her thanks, tries to ignore the wonderful heat of his hand as it settles against her back in return. When they both pull away, he catches her gaze and she can't help but stay locked in the intensity of his eyes. They are entirely clear today and there's no hesitance in them.

"I'm glad you came by," she confesses, strangely entranced by him being this close, "I thought about calling you but I didn't know if you were back yet"

"Yeah?" he asks. His voice has gotten quieter and she doesn't know if she's imagining it but there's a hopeful note in the word.

"Hmm," she confirms, "Maybe I sort of missed you around here"

"Sure you did," he smirks right back. Then his face becomes serious again. "I thought about you when I was gone"

The lets the words hang for a moment, listening to them, wanting to hear them again. Doesn't think about the implications just yet.

"Why?" she breathes. Her fingers are involuntarily caressing the eagle pendant, feeling the ridges of the wood. She doesn't know why exactly but she thinks she is keeping herself from falling entirely under his spell when he's pinning her with his gaze like that. Focus, focus on the solid object.

That doesn't take him long to answer and really, he is just stating the obvious. Something she already started to figure out since they first started running alongside another. "I like you"

It's ever so simple and practically the kind of conversation that they could be having as teenagers, bashfully admitting an affection without being able to predict the reaction. It still has her feeling warmer inside and she smiles. "That goes both ways," she tells him.

There's no kiss that follows the declaration, no touch to underline the words. It's a deeper mutual understanding, a confession. She can virtually sense his relief to hear her say it and almost feels guilty again. When they first met, she felt terrible for admitting to herself that she was trying to get over her past with the man she'd wanted to marry – trying to look towards other things to keep the sorrow at bay.

But today it feels like a new chance with someone who couldn't be more different. So she lets him stay, asks him if he wants to join her at the New Year's party and doesn't beat herself up about feeling thrilled when he agrees.


	10. Fight

It's pure electric energy in here. This is crazier than any football game she's ever been to and the show hasn't even started yet.

She's standing in a crowd of hundreds, all cheering and yelling and generally brimming with anticipation in the face of an empty cage. She's starting to have second thoughts about accepting the ticket he got her to come see this. It's quite a big arena and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't daunted by it. She had no idea until now that whatever Tommy does has such a massive fan base.

To be perfectly honest, when she actually got around to asking him about what kind of sports he did and he told her about MMA, she had some strange vision of karate and yoga made into a kind of routine sport. The internet gave her some kind of an idea but it didn't actually prepare her for this. Seeing the platform in the centre, looking all too much like a boxing ring, she has the sinking feeling that it's entirely different from her imagination.

The excitement is addictive though. By the time the contest opens, she's on her toes just like the other people; eyes wide open to catch everything that's happening in the middle. The first two men that appear on the platform remind her distantly of bulldogs, straining at their leashes to tear at each other.

The crowd around her bellows, obviously fully familiar with the contestants. Two largely built guys, both bare-chested, both bouncing on their heels with eagerness. She can only stare at the display and realization spreads with every passing minute. This isn't some regular sport that you might find at the Olympics. This is something else.

The moment the first punches fall down there she flies into a mix of emotions. There's something extremely addictive about watching these two powerful males caught in a stylized, strategic fight. It's horrifying on some level and exhilarating on another. She definitely did not expect this but the longer she watches, the more it makes sense. In some weird irrational way, this fits the man she's gotten to know over the past months.

She is very much part of the tension around her, witnessing the fight in tune with everyone else until the knockout blow is delivered. She doesn't cheer as loud but the sense of victory spreading from the ring still has her feeling pumped with energy.

Despite her previous misgivings about watching a bloody sport, she gets sucked into the event and by the third fight, she's can't help be entirely engrossed in it. She almost forgets why she initially came here.

Soon she's lost complete track of time and barely cares if she's standing or sitting. That's the point when he enters the ring. Instantaneously, she feels herself freeze and trains her eyes on his figure. It's impossible to look elsewhere. She doesn't even care to look at his opponent because suddenly she's painfully aware that she has never seen him look so alive and imposing.

The tattoos she's occasionally noticed peeking out of his collar are open to the eyes of hundreds and she is surprised at the sheer number of them. Almost half his upper body is covered in ink. The urge to see them up close, touch them even, hits her with unexpected force. The fact that they stretch over hard muscle makes them even more impressive. She can't really see his face from the distance but she can imagine the concentration on it. He's loosely rolling on the balls of his feet, not really moving out his corner until they get beckoned to the centre.

The signal is given and the men advance, fists up, both testing another in the first couple of seconds. She's hanging onto every movement, every single jab of his arms as he begins his assault on the opponent. The sheer power is incredible and the crowd around her roars as he pounds well-aimed punches into the other man. The skinhead he's fighting gets a few blows in before a kick to the abdomen sends him off balance.

Then they're suddenly on the ground with an impact that sends the crowds gasping and Natalie can't even follow the pace that the blows are raining down. The call to end the fight has them pulling Tommy off the taller guy. He looks like he's barely broken into a proper sweat. The man on the ground is spread-eagled on the ground, knocked out.

She can't even bring herself to pay attention to the fallen opponent because her eyes seem to be glued to Tommy. He's back at the edge; conversing with a man in a cap who's back is turned to her. He has just bared an entirely different side to her and she feels nothing but amazement.

That raw force he exudes right here, physically, stands at a heavy contrast with the reserved but generous personality she's experienced. It's admirable on some crazy level, to be able to get up there and battle against somebody else. These guys all look able to break another into pieces. But he fits right in. He owns the space. She wonders how long he's been doing this for to become so skilled.

His round is over and he leaves without a further glance at his opponent. She sees him several more times as the contest goes on and unsurprisingly, he beats his challenger every time in a matter of minutes. He simply confronts them with a barrage that they can only choose to dodge or attempt to match. Either way, he is victorious in all the battles she sees.

She doesn't stay until the end. She's grown too restless to remain here and watch. She pushes her way down from her seat and leaves the main arena, heading outside into the late January night. It's practically empty and the noise from inside carries out. She zips up her jacket, as she walks around the back of the complex to what she assumes would be the entrance for approved personnel.

There's security at the door and she hesitates before approaching. She wonders if this is even a good idea. Sure, he invited her to come and watch, got a free ticket but he never said that he wanted to _see_ her. Maybe it's not her place to. She doesn't even know if it would be wise to see him now while he's in this fighting mindset.

Even as she stands there, shifting from one foot to the other to keep warm, she catches sight of somebody heading out of the building. She squints, trying to associate the wrinkled face of the man. She's definitely seen him previously tonight. He goes to a car and rummages around in it, pulling out a small bag. It's only when she drifts nearer, she recognizes the vehicle and where she's seen it multiple times before. It's Tommy's.

"Excuse me," she calls, striding over to the hunched over man now, "Can I ask you something?"

He glances at her, pushing the cap out of his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Are you here with Tommy Conlon?" she queries, looking at him properly in the gleam of the streetlights of the parking lot. He looks older than she initially thought, deep lines drawn in his face and an air of weariness about him. His eyes are sharply blue and perceptive though and they stare at her now like he isn't sure he's heard her right.

"You a friend of his?" he asks instead of giving her an answer.

Friend. With all these weird new feelings involved, she supposes they are friends. She nods and tries a smile. "He got me a ticket to watch tonight. Do you think I could go see him? To congratulate, you know," she falters slightly at the inquisitive stare the man is giving her, like he doesn't quite believe anything she says.

Eventually he gives her a nod though, locks the car and beckons her to follow. They get through without a hassle once the man flashes his pass and she actually can't believe her luck. What are the chances of running into the one person accompanying Tommy to this place and him agreeing to smuggle her in? Tonight is full of surprises. She can't wait to see his face when he finds out she's here.

The man guiding her doesn't appear very talkative and she wonders what role exactly he's playing here. The trainer? Must be, even though he's quite different from all the other ones she's seen bouncing around the platform tonight. She refrains from asking though, grateful that he's taking her without a hassle.

Eventually they get to the right door and he lets her step inside first. It's small, plain, barely a room for all the furnishing there is. There's a table, a couple of chairs and a treadmill pushed up against the wall. And there's Tommy, sitting on the table, fiddling with his bruised knuckles. He doesn't look up as they enter.

"You found those bandages?" he asks without looking up.

"And a fan," the old man adds dryly.

That gets his attention. He raises his head and goes rigid for a beat when he spots her standing near the door. She gives him a grin, more out of nervousness than anything. Having him so close in this environment is doing something bizarre to her. "You give me a ticket and expect me to let it go to waste?"

He slips off the furniture and she really can't help but admire the bare chest, the flex of his muscles as he pushes off the surface. It's unusual circumstances that she's seeing him in but that doesn't make it any less alluring. She meets his gaze as he moves closer to her and is glad to see the pleased surprise there.

"And?" His tone is expectant.

"Very impressed," she admits, "and intimidated. Maybe I should have done my research. But at least it explains why you train like a madman. Most of the time I was thinking that I don't want to be on the receiving end"

His lips curve into a half-smile, reading the awe from her expression. "So you liked the show?"

She gives him a look. "I did. Actually, I was thinking," she glances at the old man who is going through the contents of the duffel bag, obviously trying hard to not listen in, "That if you win tonight, I could do some celebratory cooking. Unless you're banned from anything but protein and steroids"

That gets her a chuckle and she loves the sound of it. When he laughs, genuinely laughs, it's a complete change in his demeanour and she finds herself wanting to coax it out of him. "I'll make an exception"

"Three minutes," the old man reminds them quietly. She is immediately aware again that the event is still ongoing, that she's stealing his time right now.

Tommy stays where he is though, his focus still on her. "Thanks for coming"

"Call me so I know how it went," she tells him and takes a beat to touch the design on his right arm. It's meant to be a supportive gesture but she's pretty sure they both feel the contact going deeper, "Don't get killed, alright?"

He doesn't reply but catches her hand for a moment when she pulls away. It's brief, it's just a hint of warm pressure on her fingers before he lets go but its all the confirmation she needs. She's pretty sure he'll call demanding that dinner tomorrow.


	11. Conversations

It's an unusual evening and Brendan can't even remember the last time they were sitting together like this. He's been over to Tommy's place before but tonight it's just the three of them and the atmosphere is different from previous times.

There's calmness as he and Tommy clink their beers together and their father only watches on over his glass of water. His self-control around the alcohol is absolute, he practically insists that they don't worry about that anymore. Half a lifetime ago, it would have been unthinkable but Brendan honestly believes that the old man means it.

It's been a busy week for him at school and with Emily coming home announcing her first boyfriend, the riding lessons his youngest daughter just started, Tess being busy with her new job, the list goes on and on. It feels great to get back to Pittsburgh once in a while.

His brother has really done a great job on the small house. It's nothing stylish or classy, everything is basic and there's no visible effort of decoration but it suits Tommy. He didn't expect ornaments or fancy wallpapers. It's comfortable and since his first visit here with his family, he can see that Tommy has really made an effort to make it seem like a _home_ instead of an inhabited house.

What he's very much interested in today though is the change he's been noticing in him. Ever since returning from their spontaneous vacation up North, his brother has really let go of a lot of tension. There's a new kind of attentiveness and relaxation in him as he listens to Brendan's recount of the last month.

He's no longer the brooding guy who returned home damaged from years of hardship and war, prepared to rip people's throats out if they laid a hand on him. He's not the guy that found grim satisfaction in seeing his father suffer for previous sins. It's strange for Brendan to admit but Tommy has become older. He'll even go as far as saying his little brother has grown up and matured because he's moving on from the past.

When he spoke with Paddy on the phone recently, they had an extended conversation about this phenomenon but his father insisted that it was a topic to be discussed face to face with Tommy. There is probably more than one simple reason for this change.

He asks about his start back in the cage and Tommy answers all his questions with that new vigour. He even goes into some details about his recent fight two weeks ago without him having to push for them. Brendan isn't surprised to hear that he sailed up to first place without much difficulty or injury. It's not the same competitive calibre of fighter as the War on the Shore was but it still makes him proud to hear of the success.

Almost twenty years later, he isn't jealous in the slightest of his brother's conquests. He knows Tommy works hard for them and if he thinks about it, that kind of lifestyle suits his brother far more than it ever did him. He did it more as a favour to his father than anything else, a desire to share something with the man that would forge a bond.

Tommy doesn't need a deeper purpose behind the fight to be good at it. He lives for a real flash of adrenalin every now and again. Brendan knows he used his family as motivation in his brief twenty-four hours of glory and that's what got him through. But even then, he knew he wasn't going to return to UFC. He likes his career as a teacher and he made that decision long ago.

Actually, he's glad that Tommy has found something that makes him happy. Something he can always strive for. He's also given their father a new sense of purpose and that itself means a lot.

Paddy seems content to let them talk and simply listen but as Tommy finishes briefing him on the events of that night, the war veteran lets out a low chuckle and asks, "What about that lady, eh, Tommy?"

Said man responds by taking a deep swig from his bottle but Brendan sits up, furrowing his eyebrows at the old man. "Am I missing something?"

His father's eyes crinkle into an oddly mischievous smile and that's an expression Brendan hasn't seen in a while, "He had a girl coming in during the fight. Real pretty. Came to wish him luck for the end"

Brendan can't believe it. Not that he's not happy for his brother to have someone. He's honestly really pleased for him. But he's always thought that Tommy wasn't the guy to focus on a woman. During their youth, his younger brother only had eyes for sport and in the time after he left the 'Burgh…probably had other things on his plate than getting into relationships. But especially after SPARTA, there were surely flocks chasing after him, more than prepared to do whatever he would ask of them.

He wracks his brain, trying to recall Tommy mentioning someone. "Do I know her?"

"Nah," Tommy finishes his drink, toys with the bottle, "She came from Miami"

Brendan sure isn't the only one turning an inquisitive face on him and his brother literally groans under the weight of their stares. He looks right past them, out the window onto the quiet road.

"She lost her fiancé in a car crash last year. Came down to the 'Burgh to stay with her family," he begins and Brendan feels the memories coming back to him now. This is the woman Tommy mentioned back then in the graveyard, "Met her in October. Then she moved here. Didn't have a clue about MMA so I got her to come to the fight"

"And...you're dating?" Brendan asks as nonchalantly as possible, even though he is very much interested in the answer. Even Paddy waits for his son's reaction with open curiosity.

Tommy tilts his head, pondering that for a second. Then he shakes it. "Not really"

"She sure as hell wants to," his father comments, earning a blatant what-the-fuck look from Tommy and a snorting laugh from Brendan, "Never saw anymore more eager when I took her down to see you"

"Stick with what you know, old man," Tommy warns him but Brendan catches the faintest quirk of a smile as he looks away.

Paddy isn't fooled by it. "What's her name then?"

The ex-marine knows when its time to muddle his way out of a situation before it heads in a direction he wants to avoid. Brendan can virtually see him thinking of how to formulate a good excuse to change the topic but he's with his father on this one. This is one of the most interesting pieces of news he's gotten this week. Apparently it seems to be just the time to get into relationships. First his daughter, now his brother.

"You got a picture of her?" he adds, just to see the muscle in the man's temple twitch with annoyance. He has to bite back a grin at the frustration he's causing his younger brother. It's two against one on this.

"Natalie," Tommy grumbles with a shake of the head.

Brendan is having too much fun with this. It's like he's back to teasing Tommy when they were about twelve and first crushes came along. "What does she do, exactly?"

"Vet"

All right, so they're back to the one-word answers. Nothing that Brendan hasn't dealt with before. "Come on man, give up some details. How'd you meet?"

It doesn't take as long as he expects for Tommy to finally accept that he won't get them out of the house without giving them some semblance of a story. He makes it short and doesn't delve into much description, telling the facts as they are. Nevertheless, the more Brendan hears about this young lady, the more he comes to think that there is definitely some kind of bond between her and his brother.

It's in the way that he doesn't make a single negative comment, the way he looks at the wall slightly absently as he talks with his mind elsewhere and avoiding any mention of how he feels about her. That gives it away. When he first fell for Tess, all those years ago, he also did his best to hide it from everyone but her until they actually began going out.

But they're grown-ups now. They've been through just about everything as a family and Tommy, as an individual, has more tragic a history than many other guys. Getting together with someone might just be exactly what he needs. He just hopes that the girl can put up with him.

Paddy doesn't intervene much but when Brendan catches his eye at some point, it's evident that his father is just as pleased for Tommy as he is. Even though nothing's set in stone yet, this sounds like a good turn in his brother's life.

It sure explains a lot about the recent good mood.

"You should bring her for dinner sometime," Brendan remarks at some point, "I think Tess would love to meet her"

Tommy raises an eyebrow at the suggestion. He knows exactly what he's doing. He shrugs though, saying neither yes or no. "Not making any promises"

He smirks back. "Emily can bring her newest crush so your friend won't be the only one that has no idea what's going on"

With that, he's transferred the focus to his family and they get started on discussing the life of his oldest daughter. He's let Tommy off the hook for now but that doesn't mean he will forget about the plan. He knows that his brother probably realizes this but the ex-marine takes the opportunity to head to the fridge for a refill.

It's gotten late by the time they see Paddy off to his car and the three of them are still in good spirits. Brendan is staying the night, simply out of convenience and driving back the next day. He knows Sunday mornings Tommy takes a break from his routine to have one day to sleep in, so it's not a hassle for him to take up the couch tonight.

Tommy clears up everything within ten minutes and before they part ways to head to bed, Brendan claps his little brother on the shoulder. He catches his questioning gaze and tells him, genuinely, "I hope it works out with her. You deserve someone good, Tommy"

The shorter man regards him for a bit without an answer. In the dimness of the hallway, his serious expression is shrouded in shadow. "Like you deserved Tess back then, when everything was going to shit. She saved you from becoming like me." Brendan doesn't know what to say to that. He knows its not meant to be a condescending statement but there's regret sticking to those words. Regret that it wasn't him who found love all those years ago?

Tommy shakes his head slowly, gaze drifting past him to the corkboard with photographs pinned onto it. The only truly personal thing in the house. Brendan doesn't need to turn around to know that his eyes are fixed on their parents' wedding picture. The one he's put up right in the centre.

The fighter shrugs. "Maybe. We'll see"


	12. Friday Night

It's strange sometimes, how easy things come to you. As though you knew all along that they were going to happen. Nothing but your own rationality kept you from admitting that you want to. As though it is only natural to allow them to happen.

They've scheduled to go out for dinner on Friday after her late shift is over. Natalie has never felt more ready for a weekend. There's nothing fun about having two operations followed by a string of children with rebellious pets who are anything but cooperative about vaccinations. On top of that, she's gotten a vigorous bite from a dog that flew into a panic after the anaesthesia wore off. It throbs as she closes up the clinic just after eight and finally heads home.

She showers and changes within twenty minutes and is in the middle of bandaging up the shallow wound again when he rings the bell. With her fingers occupied and medical tape hanging from between her teeth as she wrestles with the gauze, she nudges open the door for him to come in.

Tommy finds her standing in front of the kitchen counter and she feels warmth spreading through her at the immediate concern in his expression. Almost detracts from the sting of the antiseptic she's just used. For someone who is so skilled at nursing animals to health and bandaging them up five days a week, she hasn't realized that it is challenging to do so to herself, and one-handed on top of that.

"What did you do?" he asks, shrugging off his coat onto a chair and coming to her aid. She removes the tape roll from her mouth as he takes up her attempts at wrapping the injury tightly. She gives him a subtle once over before she answers though. He's in an off-white sweater, which happens to look really good on him, over some dark jeans. The majority of times she's seen him in training clothes so that almost makes this change in attire a special occasion.

"I had a serious conversation with a German Shepherd," she starts and hands him a length of tape to secure the bandage, "When he wasn't in the mood for it." He grunts his acknowledgement, concentrating on the task at hand and she studies him and the methodical, practiced way in which he tends to her raw forearm. "Reminded me of you actually"

He glances up and his incredulity at her statement shows when he mutters, "A _dog_?"

"He's got his grouchy moods and when he's been drugged up especially, he's snappy and can get violent afterwards," she explains, "But he's a sweetheart around the people he likes. He came from an abusive household but has been in a shelter for weeks now. A bit of a misunderstood guy. We've just got him in for a couple of days for recovery after his operation."

Tommy responds with a careful look, which looks a lot like he is unnerved by the fact that she has picked up on similarities between them, but doesn't answer. Instead, he runs his hand along the applied bandage, checking whether it's too tight. Then he steps back from the counter. "You still good to eat with that arm?"

"This isn't going to keep me from my Italian," she assures him, "Thanks for the help"

"No problem"

By the time they make it to the place, it's typical Friday-night full. They get ushered to a corner table amidst other couples of whom many seem to be following Lady-and-the-Tramp-protocol and sharing spaghetti and meatballs. They both smirk at the sight, catch each other's reactions and have to stop themselves from laughing.

She notices that this is pretty much the first time they've dropped the entirely casual attitude and actually picked a nice restaurant. For her, it has more of a date feel to it than when she had him over for victory dinner or all the times they grabbed a bite together.

She observes him from time to time while they engage in conversation, waiting for their orders. There are candles on each table and in the dimmed lights, the flickering highlights their faces in dancing patterns. She is honestly frustrated by his appearance. It's as though something wants to make it purposely hard for her to draw her eyes away from him.

By the time the food arrives, they've both come to terms with being entirely out of place amidst love struck teens and college kids that dominate the restaurant. They dig in and she throws in some comments about how his carb-depleted diet makes it horribly difficult to adjust to his requests. He demonstratively takes a large bite of his Sicilian chicken but his eyes glint with humour.

Thanks to Google, she knows athletes generally steer away from alcohol to stop it interfering with their training but he goes ahead with her order for wine. They end up sharing a bottle between them. She has such a good time that she forgets that he's technically got to be training tomorrow morning.

He mentions around twelve that they should probably let the staff get home as well. She sneaks a look around and notices that only a handful of tables are still occupied. Their plates have long since been cleared but apparently she missed that too. Taking the last splash of wine, she insists on paying her share but he shakes his head. Only once but very decisively.

By now she's gotten past any qualms she may have had about asking and does so straight out, "You took me on a date today without telling me, didn't you?"

He grins but seems barely affected by the wine. With that bulk on him, he'd probably need to drink a barrel of it to actually show any signs. "Caught me," he says, gesturing for the waiter to bring their bill over.

That has her sitting back, smiling to herself. His casual answer doesn't hide the fact that he obviously planned this. She doesn't object any further as he pays, tips and she represses a snicker as the waiter asks him for an extra signature as an autograph for his son. His fame does spread quite wide, apparently there's a big MMA community around Pittsburgh because she's seen this happen once before.

He takes her hand once they've gotten into their coats and head outside. He doesn't say anything about it and she accepts the touch without questioning it, losing herself in the contact of his palm against hers. It doesn't have to mean anything, no matter how much she would like it to.

They wander up the street in comfortable silence, both listening to the sounds of the night around them and staying in another's presence. It's beautiful at this time, still cold but the fresh air washing over her makes her all the more aware of Tommy's heat beside her. It's not too busy out here anymore so it does feel, just slightly, like they are alone together. She feels the alcohol's rush dim in the frostiness but the utterly relaxed, content feeling he gives her stays.

She spots the car first and waves, pulling the taxi over for them. They separate as they get in and Tommy directs the driver. Neither makes a move to link hands again but it doesn't matter because his eyes barely stray from her and that compensates for it.

"I had a really good time," she says, looking over at him, "You have no idea how much I needed this today"

"You think you're the only one?" he replies.

"Really? Let me guess. Your crazy week was…your trainer being hard on you for not paying attention? Or you've got some new competition right now that's bothering you?" she's inventing things as she goes but it's funny to think that he could be dealing with issues that match up to being snapped at on a daily basis by certain owners and animals alike.

"Bit of everything. Just needed to get away from that part for a while," he doesn't elaborate on it but she thinks she understands. After all, she's gotten a taste of the kind of atmosphere that his day-to-day life probably consists of. She figures she stands quite juxtaposed to the people he is surrounded with and thinks what she gets to see is the other side of him, the aspect of his personality that's respectful, kind-hearted and engaging.

"So you need to get back to training tomorrow?" she asks, "Aren't you even tempted to call in sick sometimes?"

"Not during the main season. It's six days a week. You want to be lazy, you pay the price in the cage," he smirks and she puts on a scandalized expression.

"You're crazy," she notes, shaking her head at that willpower.

He glances away. "Not anymore"

She needs a moment to really take that in, put it in context of what he's told her in brief snippets about his past until now. They've touched on the not so great childhood, his experiences from overseas, the fighting. He's never gone into details but she always got the gist of it. The gray of his eyes is dark in the interior of the car and just like that time on New Year, she's drawn to them because of their sudden intensity.

"It wouldn't be important if you were," she professes, "Because no matter how messed up someone is, if they can get past that, it shows who they really are. And that's you. You went through a lot but you've become someone special. Someone I like a lot"

Even the cab driver glances over his shoulder at that statement. Tommy looks slightly dazed and it occurs to her that she might have been the only one so far that has actually voiced this out loud to him. She feels put on the spot all of a sudden and lowers her gaze to her lap. Luckily they're barely three minutes away from her place and she is glad to hand the money to the driver and hop out of the car.

They wait for the car to disappear down the street before Tommy steps up onto the pavement and faces her. There's this look on his face she can't really place and its unnerving her. It looks like she ruined the amiable mood between them earlier.

"I hope I…" she starts but her words catch in her throat as his hand comes up to her neck, his thumb running along her jaw.

His intentions are right there, right in front of her. She has enough warning to tell him to stop if she doesn't want this. She could push him back if she feels that this isn't the right time. But she doesn't.

They stand in front of her block in the cold and share a kiss that means something but is only just the start of everything. Every movement of his lips against hers has her forget all about that inner promise she made not to throw herself into any relationship right away. She's lost track of everything around her when they part for air.

Since her body seems to be working entirely of its own accord anyway, she finds her fingers reaching up to trace that perfect lower lip of his again. She's not really grasping the fact that they just did what she could only daydream about. Just friends? She must have been deluding herself from the start.

He smiles against her hand and finally tells her, "See you soon" before backing off and heading across the road to his car.

It's the best Friday she's had since she moved, hands down.


	13. Men

It's been two months since the last tournament and Paddy can see that he's becoming antsy again. There's an unnecessary force in his movement as he straddles the bag and delivers another ten punches as instructed.

He watches his son pounding into the material that never seems to present him with enough satisfaction because he leaps over it again to repeat the treatment from the other side. His knee slams against it but he doesn't seem to register that in a real competition, that movement could go against his opponent's head.

Paddy laid few ground rules when they first began training together and they included not aiming at an opponent with the intention of causing serious brain damage. He noticed that it was something Tommy had come to integrate into his style for SPARTA but that only worked on men whom he could overpower with strength and tolerance. He wants him to become more strategic, work with his head instead of gut feeling once in a while, look at other possibilities to help him improve. It's about respecting the sport, not going in for the kill.

They've done pretty well so far. He's had Tommy spar with people out of town that made him more aware of the advantages that certain grips can have rather than slamming fists. Ever since Brendan used that on him, he seems to have more recognition for those that work tirelessly on their finesse in the martial arts. In fact, the more they practice that aspect of his technique, the more he comes to use it properly in the sessions.

The muscle they've gotten back on him in good time, barely four months into training and Tommy is just below the amount he'd been for the War on the Shore. Completing his service meant that he was physically moving around a lot, not training but not slacking off. It cut down on the time they had to invest to get him back into shape.

But now Paddy watches him and thinks that he definitely needs to get him back into the competition as soon as possible. There is a larger event in the neighbouring state next week and he's hoping to get a reply from them soon. Tommy looks like he can use a time out of the gym to exercise his endless practice against those who match up to him.

"How's the finger?" he asks as his trainee gets up, breathing hard. He cracked his pinkie the other day and Paddy took the opportunity to focus on his legwork while he kept it strapped up. A week later, the bandages are all gone and he's using the hand for punches.

Tommy shrugs, rolls his shoulders. "Barely feel it"

"Maybe get the doc to check up on it when it gives you trouble?" he says. Tommy ignores the suggestion and heaves the bag back to its place. Paddy knows that his son doesn't like him commenting on the young woman but since Tommy rarely talks about her, he tries his best to tickle it out of him subtly.

He leaves him to it now, knowing that he won't open up about the topic while working and heads over to the reception to ask if the ring is booked. The trouble here is that there's rarely anybody willing to go up against Tommy. From what he's heard, the reason behind that is his first spar in this place against Mad Dog Grimes.

One of the top middleweights around and Tommy knocked him right out of his gloves in a minute flat. It's not surprising that there's little enthusiasm to volunteer for a session.

However, Fenroy points in the direction of the weights at the back of the gym. There's a fairly large guy working the dumbbells and apparently he requested the next best spar. A newcomer who signed up last week, he says. Paddy glances at the damp back of the man who is entirely concentrated on his routine but sees no harm in it. It's always good to have an opponent who can bring the unexpected and not knowing anything about his experiences might be a welcome change.

He heads over to the guy and from this proximity, he can see that he's underestimated the guy a bit. He looks like he has Hispanic heritage and is probably around the same calibre of weight as Tommy was four years ago. The dark hair is closely cropped, making the shoulders seem wider and there's a confidence to him that tells Paddy he knows his strength.

"You signed up for a fight?" he prompts. The guy eyes him for a moment before replacing his weights on a stand.

"And who're you?"

"Paddy Conlon," he introduces himself, "I've got someone who needs a partner. If you're sure"

It doesn't take much convincing. In fact, the guy agrees without even asking whom Paddy wants to put him into the ring with. Tommy doesn't comment either as he gives him the signal, just slips into his gloves with the usual concentration and ducks under the rope. He leans against the side, watching the two men stare at each other for a moment, assessing the dangers before slowly beginning to advance.

For once it doesn't take his son less than a round to get the other guy to the floor and out cold. Five minutes go by and although both of them are soon developing a sweat, neither manages to get in a decisive blow. He watches closely, observes the way that this newbie retains his strong foothold and knows better than to rain down blows in the headstrong quest for a knockout. Where Tommy gets impatient after ten minutes, this guy stays cool enough to keep dodging, keep looking for an opening.

He finds it too.

He snags Tommy at the ankle and it seems, for that split second, that the ex-marine loses his balance entirely but then the stumbling gets him just under the man's defensive shield and he lands a punch to the ribs that has the other doubling up. It's as though someone flipped a switch the in the two of them. Tommy hits the ground, rolls and comes back to a crouch just as the other one flings himself onto him. There's that turning point both have waited for.

They're on each other now and Paddy can see the tension as they both try to get a decent hold on the other. At some point, Tommy is in headlock but his elbow drives into the opponent's abdomen and the positions change again. The ring actually shakes as they land in the centre another time and Tommy bashes the man against the floor. The force is enough to have Paddy swaying where he stands.

They're both drenched and tiring and Paddy can see the light shaking in both their arms. They've been going for nearly half an hour, relentlessly, never stopping. They've gotten quite a crowd too; he can see the intrigued faces around the gym turned their way even though nobody dares to come close to the platform.

The man grips Tommy around the waist with his calves; trying to flip him again but at this point the marine seems to have had it. He throws his entire upper body into the punch and finally, the impeccable defence slips. It only takes a second and Paddy can see that Tommy is probably having the life squeezed out of his abdomen by his opponent's legs but the fist goes through the braced forearms nonetheless.

The newcomer is slammed back into the ground, there's blood on Tommy's hand and Paddy thinks he's going to finish him off, raging on adrenalin as he is. But he doesn't. He grabs the man's calves and pries them away from his torso, not violently, not to cause more pain than he already has. He pushes out of the hold as fast as possible and scrambles to his feet while the other one recovers. Paddy can't remember when he's seen Tommy consciously put distance between himself and an opponent.

There's a pause in which everything seems to go strangely quiet and there's only the ragged breathing of the two men that have given it a lot today but failed at besting the other. It's obvious they have no more energy to continue right now. Then Tommy, barely standing straight himself, offers his hand downwards in a motion ready to be taken. The taller guy raises a bruised eyebrow but clasps it anyway and let's himself get pulled to his feet.

Paddy has never seen this behaviour before. It's mystifying. Not once has Tommy extended any gracious sign of acknowledgement for an opponent. Not as a boy and surely not as a man. This kind of attitude reminds him of the last time Brendan fought and the way he held his broken brother in that cage. What he's seeing now, it's a truce between two warriors.

"Thanks," the man grunts. He wipes the stream of blood from his nose, "Good round, man"

"Again sometime?" Tommy replies with his hands braced on his knees, catching his breath.

The other guy nods, no hesitation despite the fact that they're both already bruising. It's not vengeful either. That's not what MMA is about and the longer Paddy observes these two, the more he comes to realize that they've grasped what the sport is about. Discipline, strategy, resilience. Above all that, it's about the respect for competitors. When they finally both manage to straighten and face another, he sees it in their stances.

"I'm Michael"

"Tommy"

And that's all there is to it. Neither of them feels the need to add more. They simply retreat into their respective corners as they would after any well-fought battle, gulp down water and move on to whatever they were doing before. Paddy follows his son as he retreats to the changing room and sinks down on one of the benches, cracking out his back and stretching the strained muscles. Paddy hovers across from him.

"So, where'd you go wrong?" he demands, not accusing but testing his son. He should know best where his own weaknesses lie.

"Should've driven him into a corner. He stalled too much," Tommy grunts, twisting his hips around a couple of times where the guy had leverage on him, "Great defence. Could've targeted his legs more and risked taking hits for it. He had good holds"

"Yeah, could see the jujitsu in there. That guy knows his stuff. I'm sure you'll see him in the cage soon," Paddy agrees.

"What's the advice then, trainer?" Tommy rolls the sarcasm off his tongue, moving his head side to side to loosen the muscle before finally fixing his eyes on him. Paddy can see that he's more affected by this stalemate, the first he's had with an opponent in weeks, than he lets on.

"We fix up your tactics. Never assume you're going to be the prize bull here. If he sticks around, you can train with someone you'll know you can't underestimate. We also got to make sure you're up on stamina. There's always the chance you get someone like that for the real deal. You don't wanna be forced to go those five rounds and collapse," he considers for a second, then adds, "Remember what I said about the respect?"

Tommy runs his hand over his face. He leans his head back against the lockers. "Yeah"

"That's the most important thing. And I think you found it just now"


	14. Phone Call

The phone rings several times before she manages to find the nearest one. She has bought in a cordless set but it seems whenever she has a call coming in, her children have successfully misplaced them around the house.

Swiping the newspaper off the kitchen table, she finds the device underneath and grabs it on the last ring. The caller ID blinks up at her from the screen and she takes a beat, staring at the unknown number.

She picks up, listens to the voice on the other end and lets out a relieved laugh. "Tommy! Por ultimo. Pensé que había desaparecido," then she catches herself mid-sentence, reminding herself that his Spanish probably isn't up to scratch since last summer, "It's so nice to hear from you. Did you have a good New Year?"

His voice through the receiver is always a bit scratchier than in person but he sounds happy to be hearing her. In fact, he sounds much better than when he came to visit them last June. She still remembers when he first came knocking after his discharge, looking every bit as exhausted and purposeless as he'd sounded when he asked to stay with them for a while.

"Yeah, not bad. Better than the one before. How about you?"

She tucks the phone under her ear and heads back into the adjacent room to continue her ironing. "A neighbour had a large family party so I went over with the kids. They're good friends with his son. It was great, we all had a lot of fun"

"Sounds like everyone is doing good?"

She really appreciates his constant inquiry for their wellbeing, but it seems like that always has priority when he calls. Ever since his brother's incredible donation, she has put the money to good use and invested it in her children's education, the mortgage for the house, all the things Manny would have done if he'd still been alive. There's really no need for his best friend to worry as he always does. She's more interested in his story right now.

"We are. You know we are. But how about you? Where are you?"

Knowing him as she does, she can hear the genuine warmth leaking through his next words. "It's going good. Went back to Pittsburgh, got myself a place here… and I took up your advice"

She pauses while folding a polo shirt, "Which part?"

"About Brendan and the old man. Came back to give the whole new start thing a try. I took them up to the grave in the winter and we all said what we didn't back then. Spent two days together. I think it made a difference. We're working on it."

She feels a swell of pride as he says that. He's truly a guy with a good heart and she wishes more often that not that everyone should know Tommy as Manny had. She sympathizes with his torn relations. She reckons that even she probably knows him better than his own family. He's never displayed anything but generosity and care towards her and the children. As for her husband, he was truly more than a blood brother.

She can't see him with any other eyes, even though she's aware of the violence he embraces for a living. She's seen that aspect on television. But every time they meet, and those weeks last year that he spent with them never bred any misgivings in her. He's somebody who looks out for them without a second thought, wherever he may be.

"I'm happy for you," she smiles into the mouthpiece, "How is your brother?"

"Fine. He's got his hands full with the girls. We see each other every couple of weeks now. Said he'd show me around his school sometime. There's a whole fan club waiting," there's a rumbling chuckle that follows the last statement and she couldn't be happier to hear it. She's worried about him a bit since he took off in July and didn't call again.

"I'm sure he's pleased you're back"

"Yeah"

"And your father?" She knows this man is, or has been, the greatest link in the chain of hatred and bitterness that Tommy carries.

"Still sober. Asked him to get back into training me in September. He tries too hard sometimes but he's good at what he does so I'm sticking with him for now. It's getting better. I forgave him, mostly."

"I'm really glad," she tells him, "All that time you stayed here I couldn't figure out what I could do to help but now…I'm hearing about all this. You've found that break you needed. It's wonderful."

He doesn't say anything for a moment and she's just about to break the sudden quiet by asking if he'd like to speak to the kids, when he adds, "I met someone too"

"Really?" she finds herself leaning against the side of the couch. It's a strange feeling that overcomes her at this point because she understands perfectly well what he's implying. It's something like contentment but there's sadness clinging to the edges. She just can't help that it reminds her of her own solitude at this point. All these years.

"Her name's Natalie. She's…well I know you'd like her"

She folds up another two shirts. "And she makes you happy?"

"Yeah," the response is quiet, more pensive and she can imagine him staring off into space, as he tends to do when his mind drifts off. "Makes me stay in the now and forget about the past. She's as real as it gets," he puts in another pause before a new thought seems to pop into his head, "Manny would have told me he needs to approve before I start anything"

She laughs. "I know, I know. I remember he wrote me to complain you weren't listening and going off with women that were no good. I think I said nobody can stop Tommy when he makes up his mind"

He matches her laugh with his own. "Long time ago. Great times."

"You miss them too?" she asks. She hasn't talked about this in a while. It's been a long time since losing her husband and she's learned to cope, learned to accept and continue. But with Tommy, it's this mutual feeling that they can still talk about him. They can reminisce and it won't hurt because those are all cherished memories that they share.

She hears him take a breath on the end of the line. "Every day"

"Do you want to come down for the anniversary?" she questions, not really expecting anything but hoping nonetheless. It will be exactly five years this June and she wants someone there with her whom Manny would have wanted to see at such a memorial day.

"I'll see if I can," Tommy replies, "It's just busy now, y'know?"

"Of course," she agrees, feeling the tug of reality. Naturally, he's a working guy with a normal life in Pittsburgh now and can't just cross the United States whenever he feels like coming by, "Just a thought"

"You know I want to be there"

She forgets sometimes how close they really were. How many years together in a hostile, foreign environment brought them together. How they were willing to sacrifice anything for each other, Tommy maybe even more than Manny. Tommy who didn't have anything else to lose anymore but had his best friend ripped away from him before his eyes.

"He'd be happy for you too," she adds quickly before the train of thought starts to make her sentimental.

"What about you?" She doesn't really know how to answer that and stays silent until he presses on, "There's nobody else?"

"Not everyone comes after a woman with kids, Tommy," she sighs into the phone as she puts the last couple of clothes onto the pile.

"That's because none of them deserve you," he tells her and she has to smile to herself. This kind of chivalry comes out rarely, he expresses himself more in body language, but when it does, it's honest and she feels touched. She knows he's thinking that nobody could ever live up to Manny.

"I'll let you know if I find someone you need to approve," she says to lighten the mood again and receives a short laugh from the other end.

"Tell the kids they gotta behave and be good to you, yeah? Tommy said so, they'll listen," he changes topic.

"I can tell them you're going to come and check. Then they will call you back to hear you say it," She balances the stacks of clothing into the bedroom's closet, "Don't worry, they're doing well, especially in school. I don't even have to make them do homework"

"Didn't get that from Manny," he jokes.

She shakes her head in bemusement. The willingness to practice math definitely didn't come from her husband's side. "And is this your number now?"

"Yeah. Home. But I'll be out of town next week for a fight"

"Good luck," she says earnestly, "Please be careful"

"Yeah. It's good to talk to you. I should have called earlier," he sounds genuine and she brushes aside the fact that he was probably too preoccupied fixing up his own life to be thinking of hers. She doesn't mind. As long as she knows he's doing fine where he is now.

"Don't worry about it. And you know you're always welcome to visit"

"Pilar?"

She stops in the doorway, just about to head to the kitchen when he says her name. It sounds uncharacteristically hesitant for him. She waits for the punch line.

"I keep my promises"

Then there's a click in the line and she's standing there, braced against the doorframe with a beeping phone in her hand. She's smiling down at the receiver and knows she was stupid to think that Tommy would have forgotten or ignored them just because he hasn't called since summer. The man who came to her after discharge and the man on the line are different but they both care endlessly for her family.

Sometimes it hurts to hear of the success that other people achieve in their lives. Especially when your own seems to have stayed unchanged for so long. But Tommy deserves this turn for the better and if Manny were still here with her, he'd have said just the same.


	15. Tattoos

She's hesitant as she parks in front of the house and heads up to the door. Normally it's him showing up at her apartment instead of vice versa. She's only been a here a few times before. It's a very quiet neighbourhood but she supposes, since he's a private person, that she expected it.

Apart from his name on the mailbox, there's nothing that suggests this place is inhabited by anyone. Not from the outside at least. The little patch of garden is bare, even though it's March now and everybody is busy trying to get some colour onto the lawns. But his car is standing out front so she knows he's here. She knocks.

He called her to let her know he won that tournament in New Jersey and that they'd be back by the weekend. Despite them making plans to go out for drinks on Saturday, she wants to surprise him for a change. So she's here with tequila in her coat pocket, determined to not let him celebrate his victory by staying locked up in his house alone.

It takes a good minute for him to open up and she grins at the bewildered expression on his face when he sees her standing there. He's in a wife beater and sweats and she's just about to come up with a cool one-liner when she catches sight of the swelling on his eye. She can feel her expression drop.

"Bad timing?" she asks with a wince, gesturing at the heavy bruise, "Would you rather sleep it off tonight?"

He snorts at the thought. "Like hell. Never do. Just didn't expect you," he moves aside to let her in and leads her through the narrow hallway into the living room.

She catches sight of the DVDs spread haphazardly all over the coffee table. "So this is what you do the night after a winning? Stay in with movies and ice packs?" he nods and she turns her attention to his random selection.

"You want to?" he asks, gesturing at the screen, "I wasn't planning anything"

"Sure," she flops down on the couch, ridding herself off her jacket. The tequila clanks against the armrest with the movement and she pulls it out, "But I'm not letting this go to waste either. It's victory night. Humour me on this"

That gets a smirk out of him. Without another word, he vanishes into the kitchen to get glasses. Natalie puts the bottle on the table to have her hands free, tugs off her boots and pulls her legs up onto the sofa, really taking the time to look around the room tonight. He's added a bit to it since she visited in January, actually has a curtain over the windows and some items on the previously bare shelves. She notices that there's not one medal up there, despite his many recent wins.

When he comes back, pops in a film and joins her on the couch, she can't help but turn his face towards her. He doesn't move as she runs a careful finger along the purplish discolouring around the eye socket and temple. He keeps his eye open though and doesn't even wince when she rests her whole hand against the side of his face. She sighs as she lets it drop back to her lap but continues to look at the swelling.

"You shouldn't make a bruise that nasty look good," she says, "Then I could actually be annoyed that you get beat up for money"

His raised eyebrow makes her grin back at him. She's only amusing herself with this. She's well aware that these bruises are part of his lifestyle and that he probably doesn't even notice them half the time. Plus, she's not lying. The battle-hardened exterior and fighter's attitude does suit him very well. Even if black eyes aren't exactly beauty statements.

She reaches for the alcohol, pours them both a shot and after a brief contemplation, she toasts. "So here's to you, for going out there and proving that you're one of the best."

Even Tommy has to repress a laugh at the formality of it. "Here's to you for missing the action"

She shrugs with an eye-roll. "You know how it is. Some of us adults have to work these dreary regular jobs with set vacation days"

"It's tough," he empathizes, still smirking.

They both down their shots, then, as though by silent agreement, turn towards the movie playing. It an older one from several years ago, _Hitman_ or whatever it was called. She remembers a friend going on and on about the central actor. Amidst the multiple choreographed action and combat sequences involved, she finds herself drawing comparisons between the protagonist and Tommy.

She's not surprised his preferred genre is action but the fact that he is perhaps capable of a lot of the moves that are pulled in the film, that's slightly overwhelming. She wonders if he ever killed anyone in direct combat during his service, if he handled it as easily as this fictive character.

About an hour into the film her interest is taken again by the tattoos that are on display again thanks to his choice of clothes. She's sitting beside his right arm, so she can appraise them with her eyes from this close range. It's not complex in its design but the thick dark shapes form a compelling pattern that stands in contrast to the tanned skin.

The ink continues onto his chest and as she tilts her head slightly, she catches sight of the row of numbers along his collarbone and the more delicate, finely done theatrical masks beneath. Again, the evident contradiction between the design on his arm and that on his chest holds her fascinated. She guesses they must come from different periods of his life because they seem to display two opposing personas. She hasn't even realized that she's probably been staring longer than necessary because when she draws back a bit, he has turned towards her.

"See anything you like?" he asks, light mockery in his voice.

She swallows to get a hold over herself and these crazy irrational urges to be familiar with the designs. "I didn't realize you had so many of them"

"Started at sixteen. Then they just kept coming," he explains and since they're both not really paying attention to the film, he turns his upper body to her, "This one," he points to the masks, "my first. After I left Pittsburgh. The number is my best friend's tag. The tribal came after I ran from service"

Without warning, he tugs at the hem of his shirt and slips it off. She honestly can't process how comfortable he is with breaching layers of clothing like there's nothing to it. It's really not like she's complaining but it just shocks her anew to see how at ease he his in his own skin. He doesn't have anything to hide, not when millions of eyes have watched him fight, stripped to the waist.

He points to the other side of his chest, then the arm, starting to explain the graffiti on his shoulder when she puts a hand on his abdomen. It's just beside a phrase that caught her eye. She indicates the last two letters. "SW?"

He glances down. "Selene Wendy Riordon. My mother"

Of course she was going to ask about a touchy subject. He mentioned the death of his mother during his teenage years. She mentally smacks herself for her curiosity. "I'm sorry"

They are quiet for a minute while the television flickers in the room and the actors' voices carry on. Then his hand slowly reaches down to take hers away from the inked words. "Doesn't matter anymore. It's been fifteen years."

She can't really bring herself to believe he's not slightly pained by the memory. But she lets it be because she can tell that it's not a subject he wants to discuss tonight. It was supposed to be a small celebration of his success, not a reminder of his troubles.

Determined to make up for her blunder, she leans over and places a chaste kiss on the initials. She can feel his muscles jump as her lips make contact with the warm skin. Any hesitance or awkwardness she may have felt at this point vanishes at the touch. She catches his gaze when she moves away again and is caught in the dark intensity.

His hands find her waist and two powerful arms draw her to him until his lips find hers. Somehow, she finds herself mirroring the grasp, hands finding broad shoulders to hold onto.

There's no holding him back once he's been encouraged. Or maybe he knew she would react like this once he started with his shirt. All she can comprehend right now, is that she hasn't done this in months and she doesn't think anything could feel better than this man's hands running up under her shirt to caress every inch of skin with calloused, intimate warmth.

His tongue against hers and her hands in his hair and suddenly the world has shifted horizons because she's flat on her back and he is braced above her. She feels the alternating brush of cool air and Tommy's body against her stomach and when they break their kiss at some point, hot lips add a new sensation, travelling from her belly up to her ribs.

She complies when he pulls her shirt over her head to grant her chest more attention. She's roaming his back with her hands, savouring the sheer power of this man that has gotten under her skin so quickly, so unexpectedly. She is completely stunned by the want that he's stirring inside her.

It's not nearly wide enough for the both of them on the sofa, which she realizes when she tries to switch their positions and ends up rolling him onto the carpet below. She has to laugh at the unintentional impact on the floor but seconds later, any discomfort is forgotten and they're connected at the lips again.

She can feel the physical lust now, pressing against her as she pushes him backwards to straddle him. It's a bit of a difficult job to convince a man who is so used to dominance but when she persists, he lets her have her way. Knowing she is practically powerless against his strength, his responsiveness encourages her. He immediately pulls her down to him again though, kissing her into oblivion, sucking on her skin wherever he can.

She really doesn't think about wrongs or rights at this point. Stopping doesn't seem like a sensible option and she is convinced it would be impossible to. But even so, her head gets in the way. She can't pinpoint what is happening but her body instantly goes stiff when she feels Tommy's hand on the button of her jeans.

It's not realization like being doused in cold water or a slap across the face. But the second she feels his fingers dip into the low-riding pants she knows she can't. Not yet. Not today. She's not ready yet.

Natalie gasps his name against his lips when he tries to stop her from pulling back. She strains against the hold on her lower back. He seems to finally comprehend her reluctance and lets go, bracing himself on his elbows to look at her when she sits up. Both of them are breathing hard and slightly flushed but they look at each other without reservations.

"I don't know why…" she stumbles on the words, not really capable of explaining herself. Ridiculously enough, there is a sudden lump at the back of her throat, "It's too early. I'm just not…he's still…there"

He just nods and she's immensely glad for it.

Natalie gets off his hips but only to let herself fall back next to him on the fleece material of the carpet. She rests her head on her knees for a moment, inhaling deeply and trying to make sense of the fact that her dead lover's face is swimming in front of her inner eye. It's ridiculous and she knows that but it doesn't make the newly arisen guilt disappear.

Tommy doesn't say anything, letting her be. A minute later though, the heat of his hand seeps into her knee and she raises her head at the touch. He's looking at her, a mixture of concern and question. She can only shake her head to show her own confusion.

"It's this feeling as though he's still here and…like I can't take him out of the equation when I'm with you," she admits quietly.

He thinks about that for a moment, then points to the numbers on his collarbone again. "This guy left behind a wife and kids. She's the bravest woman I know, had nobody to help her through the loss when it happened. I was in back in Iraq and she had to keep it all together for the children. It's been five years and she can't move on to someone else," he stops, struggling to find the words that will make her understand his point, "What they had...it ain't coming back and it's not about replacing Manny…it's not being alone"

She absorbs that, ponders the meaning while he sits up, leaning against the couch beside her. "Thanks," she murmurs and he simply wraps an arm around her in silent companionship.

They refocus on the screen and gradually, the mood returns to amiable. Neither of them is inclined to put their shirt back on and they stay sitting on the ground, lost in thought. At some point his hand comes up, brushing over the words at the base of her neck. He doesn't ask about it. They end up finishing the movie, sober and mostly keeping their hands to themselves. She leaves the tequila with him when she goes home.

"Save it for the next time I drop by," she says.

He just gives her that lazy half-smile. "I'll take you up on that"


	16. Introductions

Emily honestly doesn't get why she has to stick around for tonight's dinner. She told her parents that she and Rob wanted to go out and see a movie today. With a group of friends obviously, since her parents still lecture her about going out on dates when she's only thirteen. That's probably because they weren't allowed to when they were her age, but it's 2016. That's what teenagers do.

Apparently it's a special occasion and they're having guests over, so she's forced to stay and help prepare the salad and mashed potatoes. At least they allowed Rob to come over and eat with them; she'd be horribly bored listening to the adults talk about nondescript topics that she has no input on.

Rose got lucky, one of her friends is having a sleepover party and because Mom and Dad had already agreed, they wouldn't pull her out. This had better be important if they want her to be here. She is somewhat curious, mainly because she has asked about ten times and still not gotten an answer about who is coming tonight.

At around seven thirty, Rob turns up with the skateboard tucked under his arm and she yells to her parents that they'll be in her room. Dad barely notices, busy running around the storeroom and kitchen and Mum just went into her room to change anyway, so they head upstairs without disturbance.

Where her little sister has gotten herself into horse riding and music, she finds herself drawn to sports. She knows now that her Dad used to be a fighter, a successful one too, she even saw the big tournament he won on YouTube after they told her about it. A lot of guys in school ask about him and want autographs but it's not really her thing. On top of her fascination for the universe and planetary system, she has taken up skateboarding.

That's why she gets along so well with Rob. They're not really boyfriend and girlfriend like her parents think but because they're so close, a lot of people make that judgement when they see them together. Okay, maybe they kissed before but that was a dare anyway. He's just a really cool guy and a year older than her. She spends most of her time with him and he's taught her everything about boarding.

They stay in her room for a while; he shows her a clip of a new trick he wants to teach her. They get talking about how much it sucks that they can't go out because of family events. He's got it even harder because his parents are divorced and he has to divide his time between them. Holidays, birthdays, special occasions - it's tough to make everyone happy.

Her mom pokes her head in briefly to say hello, give her a meaningful look that says, 'Don't do anything inappropriate under my roof' and leaves again. Over her shoulder, she calls for Emily to put on something nicer than ripped jeans. She just rolls her eyes at Rob, who just shakes his head in disapproval.

Half an hour later, they hear a car pull up outside.

"This is it. The surprise guests. My parents were all secretive about it the whole day," Emily says and pulls her friend off the chair, "Come on. I want to see this"

They head downstairs and hover in the hallway where they can see the door. It's half-open and her parents are outside, already talking to the arrivals. She leans against the wall, rolling her eyes at Rob's longing stare into the kitchen where the food is standing on the counter. She smacks his arm and he grins back at her.

She turns her head again as her parents come back in. She steps forward out of politeness to shake hands because she knows otherwise her Dad will probably make sure to embarrass her by pointing out her lack of manners.

She stops though, when she sees who follows them into the house. It's Uncle Tommy, whom she hasn't seen in two months. Well, since around Christmas when he dropped off Dad after their trip up north. So it is a special occasion of sorts. Although she doesn't know him that well, she likes him. For an uncle he's really cool, he doesn't say much but when he does he's got this dry humour and its not just random chitchat. He looks over at her and gives her that half-smile.

Behind him, another person enters and closes the door behind her. It's a woman Emily definitely has never met before and she furrows her eyebrow in confusion when she spots her. She wonders if her parents mentioned this lady but she can't think of any instance.

Either way, she walks up to them and extends her hand. "Hey, Uncle Tommy"

He grants her that handshake, giving her a probing look when he notices Rob remaining behind her, unsure whether to participate in this game of polite introductions. "Hey. Who's this?"

"Just Rob," she tells him, gesturing back at the boy who nods at the guests, "He's staying over for dinner too"

"Her date," her Dad stage whispers to the guests, which makes her throw her best glare at him and has Rob looking slightly sheepish.

"Can't believe you're doing this," his brother mutters. That comment confuses everybody present but her father just grins at the inside joke and heads to the dining room after his wife. Emily fixes her questioning gaze on the other woman and Tommy seems to realize she hasn't been introduced yet. He looks over at his companion, "This is Natalie"

"_Your_ date?" Emily guesses and both the adults exchange a glance.

"Am I?" she raises an eyebrow at the younger Conlon who does his best to look unaffected by the loaded question.

"Yeah," he says without missing a beat, "I drive six hours across the state for all my dates"

That gets everyone laughing and the atmosphere loosens up. Emily properly introduces herself to the woman and notices that she's actually very pretty, with her chest-length brown hair and the bangs falling just above the green eyes, making her look younger. She's not fancy, save for the heels she's wearing and doesn't look stuck-up or anything. That's good. She bets that Uncle Tommy and this Natalie are actually going out, even if he was kidding around just now.

She returns to Rob's side so he doesn't feel entirely neglected. Her Dad calls for them to come inside before the food starts getting cold and they all comply, suddenly eager at the sound of a meal.

Despite being wrapped up in hushed conversations with Rob most of the time, she does observe the guests every now and again. At first it's a bit stiff between the adults and Natalie seems to be in her own thoughts, focusing on her food to hide any discomfort. Uncle Tommy isn't much of a talker anyway so it's up to her parents to keep the conversation going.

By the time they're on the main course though, everything has gotten more loosened up and the women have engaged in a discussion about Natalie's job while her Dad debates with his brother about Tommy's chances in some upcoming fight. Seeing as everyone is occupied, Emily takes it upon herself to clear the plates and gets Rob to bring in the dessert from the fridge. Homemade chocolate mousse.

Her mom is fantastic when it comes to sweet things and this is one of her specialities. Seeing as she made it for today, Emily wonders if this is something more important than just a random dinner with a relative. Rob has had a taste of this chocolaty heaven before so he is excited and she has to reprimand him when he tries to steal a spoonful.

They take it to the table and Emily hands out bowls, which everyone accepts save for Tommy. She gives him an incredulous look. "You haven't even tried it"

He shakes his head. "Sorry. Trainer's orders"

"No excessive sugar, cut down on the fat, as little carbs as possible…basically ditch everything that's delicious in this world," Natalie says, half to her, half to the man beside her. She holds out her bowl to Emily, "Don't worry. I'll have his share"

Again, everyone finds themselves smiling at that and Emily laughs when Tommy responds with a mock-glare. They settle down with their food and out of the corner of her eye, she sees the way that her Dad gives Tommy a wink. It's just plain weird to see the adults give another looks like that so she concentrates on her bowl.

Nevertheless, amidst the casual conversation between the adults, she notices how Natalie keeps waving a full spoon in front of Uncle Tommy's lips and the amused shake of his head every time she tries. She doesn't give up though and when he turns once to explain something Mum just said, she puts the loaded spoon right into his mouth before he can protest.

"Try it," she demands and even though he looks annoyed, he does because there's no way of not tasting it when its already past his lips, "Good, huh?"

He doesn't give her the satisfaction of an answer as he hands the cutlery back to her but everyone around the table knows it. Nothing compares to the infamous Conlon chocolate mousse.

All in all it's really not as horribly bad as Emily expected it to be. Sure, she would have loved to see that film but it was good to see her uncle again. He doesn't turn up as much as Grandpa, Dad goes to visit him more often so it's cool to see him once in a while. Even Mum appears to have enjoyed his visit, but that's probably because she had another woman to bond with for a change.

Plus the fact that Rob was allowed to stay over compensates for the failed movie outing. He leaves earlier than the other guests because his Dad is coming tomorrow morning to pick him up. Since he only meets him occasionally, those days are important for him. Emily sees him off.

When she returns to the dining room, she finds that it's only Uncle Tommy still in there, drinking his water as he looks at the picture collection they have on the wall. He notices her and explains, "They're all out back"

She leans against the doorframe. "Is Natalie your girlfriend?"

"Maybe," he answers with a sidelong glance over his massive shoulder. She doesn't shy away from the gaze that's telling her, you're a very nosy child, Emily Conlon, "That kid your boyfriend?"

"Kind of," she doesn't back down, "Mum and Dad think so"

He doesn't say anything else on the subject and they both stay there for a bit, just looking at her childhood memories stuck in frames on the wall. She walks around the table, crossing her arms over a chair. It's quiet until she asks, "How come you fight, Uncle Tommy?"

That has him actually turn to face her. "What?"

She shrugs, seeing as the subject is a tricky one to get across with sounding like she's a stupid little kid who sees the world in black and white. She's been asking herself this a while now, whenever her parents bring him up. "Dad says you fight people like he used to. That's your job. But why?"

"I know it," he says, slowly, listening to his own answer, "You do what you're good at"

Interesting. Whenever the kids in school fight, they always get told off for it. It still baffles her that there's a sport where people try to hurt each other on purpose and get money for it. Skateboarding is way safer. "You don't want to do anything else?"

He gives that some thought. "Nah, not now. Not while it's going great. They make you stop at some point, when you're too old to keep up"

"And then you're going to marry Natalie?" she inquires, the mischievousness coming back.

He just ruffles her hair at that comment but doesn't answer. Later, when they're gone and she's in bed, she thinks about it again. Maybe he didn't avoid telling her because he was irritated by her bluntness but because he had no answer he could give her. Maybe because under all of his threatening appearance, he's actually freaked out thinking about it.


	17. Rising

Paddy sneaks a look over at his son as they enter the tunnel. Tommy doesn't look any more on edge than usual but the fact that this is New York City, that this is one of the biggest tournaments he'll be in this year, is probably adding to the adrenalin.

It's massive here; almost the scale of the Atlantic City layout and the crowd has been raging since the first competitor showed his face an hour ago. It's the top fighters here tonight.

They're contestants that actually have the capacity to test Tommy and push him to the limits. From the listing he can see that the organizing crew have been observing his fights in the recent months.

They've made wiser choices than at SPARTA where Tommy's calibre was more or less unknown and he was placed in the ring with men who did not stand a chance against his bulk. Here, the contestants are distributed with thought. Tonight won't be as easy as the qualifying battles were.

Out in the open, under flashing lights, yells and camera lenses, Tommy turns to him one more time before heading into the cage. Paddy can see the resolve hardening in his face as he hands him his shirt. He nods back. Then his son moves into the spotlight, ready to take down the wolves.

The first guy towers over Tommy but does not have the same width on him. It's all lithe muscle and Paddy's first guess is that this is a man of speed and agility, probably good with restraining holds. Tommy seems to recognize that, plays it safe, never letting the opponent get a grip on him. He's learnt from his sessions with Michael, making sure that he gets the guy against the cage as swiftly as possible to maintain the advantage.

The man lasts two rounds before Tommy hammers him into the ground. The second opponent doesn't make it past the first because he flat out underestimates him. Tommy slams a hard roundhouse kick into his stomach, followed by a lucky punch to the temple as the man rebounds. It leaves the guy out cold.

In the break, he gets his son ice for the bruises forming on the left side of his jaw. They sit together in their waiting room, Tommy sipping absently on his water while Paddy checks the eliminations so far.

Eventually, he asks, "What's going round your head?"

Tommy's eyes linger on him before slipping back to his water bottle. "Did Brendan call?"

So that's it. They'd talked about it in the car on the way here but there wasn't much time to give thought to it once they arrived. Brendan promised to come for the big weekend. Paddy sent him a pass for both nights but he wasn't sure if he could make it and they haven't heard from him since the evening started. He sees now that Tommy must have expected him to give them a shout if he was here.

He takes out Tommy's battered Nokia, staring at the display. There's one sign blinking in the corner but he doesn't think it's a missed call. At his age he's allowed to have difficulties with technology so instead of trying to decipher how to operate the thing, he passes it to his son.

Tommy stares at the screen, presses a few buttons, scans the words and cracks a half-smile. Paddy knows that expression by now.

"Natalie?" he grunts good-naturedly as Tommy tosses the phone back on the duffel.

"Yeah"

Even for an old man, Paddy can see that it's raised the fighter's mood to be getting support from the young woman. He knows Tommy wanted to invite her for this event as well because he asked for a second ticket. In the end, she declined, probably because of work.

"How's it going with her?"

"Good"

"Brendan told me about dinner last month," Paddy prompts, "said she's nice. You took her to meet the family, huh?"

"Not now, Pop," Tommy replies and it's not menacingly brash as he would have been five years ago but gets the point across anyway. Now is the time for fighting. His personal life has no place here while he's in the cage.

Paddy can respect that. Despite his natural curiosity about the growing relationship that he's been hearing more about from Brendan than Tommy, he knows when to be patient. At least his son hasn't shot him down directly for asking.

They fall back into their silence, Tommy stretching out his muscles until the call for his last round comes. He paces a step behind the fighter as they make their way into the tumultuous ring again. He taps his son's arm once to get his attention before he gets into the cage and tells him, "This is a tough one. Pull out all the tricks"

He just rolls his neck in response but Paddy knows his advice is taken seriously. Always been that way. Tommy can judge the danger himself when the other contestant is brought inside and the sheer size of him reminds of the Russian who Brendan fought. He may actually rival him in the intimidation factor as he storms in like a massive, uncontrollable bull.

The fight is easily the most heated, brutal one of the evening. The screams of the audience reach an entirely deafening level as the forces collide on the platform. Paddy can barely stand still himself. He's feeling every blow that his son takes without batting an eye, as though he was being pummelled himself. He can visualize the damage Tommy dishes out in his own strikes against the opponent.

It's a hard battle and before they enter the third round, he calls Tommy over to give him last-minute advice. He can see him barely taking it in. Once he's in the zone, it's hard to get him out and clear enough in the head to ask for concentration. It happens when there's no easy win but a gruelling struggle for it. This is where the stamina comes in, the sessions they put in for holds and kicks.

The horn blares, the fighters are back at it and he can see the change. It's this point where Tommy lets go of all control and goes by instinct, where even Paddy can't tell if he knows how dangerous he becomes. It's when he does find the broken, seething Marine behind the newly mended man and wonders if the attempt to make him fight rationally truly exists.

Tommy is really pulling out all the stops, the other is matching it with his own aggression and the commentators are having their fun describing this round as a real cockfight. Paddy works to control his breathing when the opponent slams Tommy onto his back and begins pounding his abdomen. The former marine responds with a vicious head butt and as they both roll back to their feet, a snap kick to the chest.

Paddy is glad for all that endurance training they put in. It's really getting Tommy through. Despite the sheen of sweat, he's not tiring yet. There's twenty seconds left of this round and both guys are looking determined to last until the end. The massive guy tackles him to the ground again but this time Tommy is prepared. He wraps his legs around the guys torso and twists into a sitting position, wrenching the man's arm back at an angle.

The pain is visible on the guy's face and he can't roll out of the hold without breaking his elbow. The yell of frustration is replaced by one of torment at Tommy increases the pressure on the joint. He taps.

Paddy can't help the proud grin that stretches over his face when Tommy's fist is raised in the air and the other man jerkily gets to his feet. Avoiding the bashed up back, he gives him a clap on the shoulder as they exit the arena under applause that has the building buzzing.

Tommy can't sit down when they return to the back and Paddy throws him a towel. He keeps pacing around the room, rubbing the sweat from his face and taking sporadic gulps of water. This time he's taken a good beating and he's bleeding from a cut across his eyebrow and lip. Paddy finally gets him onto a seat and inspects the damage.

"Not too bad. You can patch it up at the hotel," he stands back, "So, first night's over. You did real well with that last one"

He receives a shrug in response, "Got a stubborn trainer"

Those words coming from him are worth more to Paddy than any prospect of a trophy they might be getting by the end of tomorrow. If the odds are in their favour. "You wanna watch the rest or get an early night?"

Tommy shakes his head, slips into his shirt again. "Let's go"

They sign out at the exit gate and head to the car. April this year is surprisingly warm and Paddy keeps the windows open as they pull out of the lot. He doesn't trust Tommy to drive them yet, still high on the adrenaline as he is. He got a bit more roughed up than Paddy expected from that last one. Tomorrow is going to be just as much of a challenge and he wants his son as rested as possible before that.

Once they're driving, the former marine speaks up from the passenger seat. "You should meet her when we're back"

"I did. That time in January," Paddy points out, easily catching on to whom his son is referring.

"Not as my trainer. She thinks that's all you are," Tommy elaborates. Somehow he's found himself a toothpick in his pocket and rolls it between his lips. His eyes are more focused now as they turn to him, "Brendan got to meet her. It's your turn"

"Did you see her parents yet?" Paddy inquires, keeping an eye on the evening traffic. He sees Tommy's headshake from the periphery, "Start with that. Always gotta impress the girl's folks first. Your old man can wait."

"She's 29, Pop. That stuff stops applying," he corrects and there's humour in his tone. Paddy considers the meaning of this. Before, Tommy wouldn't have thought twice about keeping him out of any personal affair in his life but now this? He can't really place his son's motivations after barely mentioning his relationship to him since it started.

"You want me to introduce myself, that's all?"

"Yeah," the toothpick bobs up and down with the words, "Sound easy?"

He nods in understanding and since Tommy brought this up, feels bold enough to ask, "So it's serious with you two?"

"Yeah. She's had a hard time but it's gettin' better. We both got trouble from before but sometimes that makes it easier," Tommy is looking out the window at the commotion flashing past.

"It's good," Paddy comments, "You and her"

They both fall quiet again after that and he concentrates on finding his way in the chaos that is New York City. It's not his city, he's more comfortable on the roads in Pittsburgh, with their more laid-back tempo. Just before they reach their accommodation, Tommy's cell rings. He picks up and Paddy can hear the grin in his voice as he greets the caller.

It doesn't take long to figure out Brendan is on the line because they get into details about the fight. That means he was there to watch all along. That fact probably makes Tommy happier than the congratulations he's getting from him over the phone.

The conversation lasts several minutes before he puts the phone away. Paddy parks the car, manoeuvring with the wheel. Driving Tommy's Jeep is a bit of a challenge compared to his own small vehicle. There's a content moment before the fighter murmurs, "He came"

"Course he did," Paddy glances over at his bruising son and watches the ease settle on his features now. It's a rare sight to see him so entirely satisfied with his world and Paddy wants to ingrain that picture in his head forever. "Alright. Let's get your face fixed up."


	18. Stopover

The streets are quiet as Brendan turns the car into his neighbourhood. The lights of the car tailing him are almost blinding as he glances back to see them still following. It's just after eleven now and he's properly exhausted from driving. The traffic was not merciful today.

He can't even imagine how weary Tommy must be after the weekend fight and on top of that, sharing the ride back with Paddy. The old man is fit for his age, he'll give him that, but driving long distances in the dark is better left to his brother.

His house is like a welcoming beacon to him. He parks in front of the garage, not wanting to make any extra noise to wake the neighbours. It's a late Sunday night after all; everybody will be up in several hours and heading to work. He groans inwardly at the thought of a school day tomorrow. After the excitement of the weekend, he's not all that motivated to get back to teaching in the morning.

There's his wife coming outside at the sound of their cars and even in her pyjama pants and top, he can never tear his eyes from the blonde woman. It's good to be home. He gives her a kiss as he gets out of his car and she smiles up at him. "Had a good time?"

"You bet"

"Is it crazy that I missed you around these three days?" she murmurs.

"Not from you. I love you," he grins back and gives her another peck.

The sound of the car doors slamming across the street has them breaking apart. She actually goes up to give his brother a loose hug as the remaining Conlon men cross the lawn. Tommy seems just as surprised as Brendan at the openly friendly gesture but he accepts the embrace.

Brendan half-expected Emily to still be up and come jumping outside first since she's taken the greatest liking to her uncle out of all the women in his family. Tess must have convincingly gotten her to bed early enough for school tomorrow. They're still doing quite well on setting a bedtime but in a year or so, that'll probably be history.

Over the last few months, his wife has really opened up to Tommy and accepted him just as she learnt to let Paddy back into their lives before. Considering the first impression she got from them both, that's a real achievement and he's beyond proud of her for allowing his family to participate. Her own parents aren't really an option, they immigrated to Canada before the girls were born and manage to drop by twice a year at most. Her sister is living in Maine but working a strenous job that doesn't leave all that much opportunity to see her often.

So for him, it's a real joy to see her becoming closer with both his little brother and father. He wants to share everything in his life with her, right down to the improving relationship with those two.

Paddy gets a good-natured pat on the arm from his wife before she gestures for all of them to come inside. It's been a long drive back from the big city and as much as he'd love to spend some time alone with Tess, he's glad to accommodate his brother and father for the night. It's feels way to long since they last came by.

The girls are already long since sleeping so he refrains from going upstairs to check up on them. Tess is polite as ever, asking their guests if they'd like a drink or something to eat before heading off to bed. Paddy shakes his head, insisting she shouldn't go to any trouble. She sees him to the small guest room at the back.

When they're left alone, Tommy eyes the made-up couch, complete with sheet, pillows and blanket and gives Brendan a look. "I could've taken the mattress"

"Don't worry about it," he waves his younger brother off, "She get's this kind of stuff done in ten minutes flat"

"Wonder woman," the fighter scoffs and flops down on the creaseless material to pull his trainers off.

"That's why I married her," Brendan points out as he heads to the kitchen to grab some ice. He knows Tommy would never ask for it and rather knock back some painkillers and sleep but he can see that his ribs need more cooling. He's been walking gingerly ever since the last fight yesterday night.

It's too bad really. He was doing phenomenally well until they matched him against a bloke who was painfully borderline the next weight class. Tommy held up well until he was put into a chokehold that honestly provided no escape. It was simply bad luck that cost him the champion title. He ended third.

Now he's left with a cracked rib, moderate swelling on the left side of his face that's mostly subsided already and bruising surrounding his solar plexus. Nowhere near as bad as the dislocated shoulder he gave him at SPARTA but still a good deal of pain. Probably nothing he's not handled before but Brendan feels obliged to offer some relief.

When he returns to the sofa with a glass of water and the ice, Tommy has already stripped off his shirt and changed into sweats, sprawled across the length of the sofa. He settles on the end, puts the glass on the coffee table and tosses the pack at his brother.

Tommy catches it and gives him a grateful nod. "You'll want to keep that on until you sleep," Brendan advises.

"Not as bad as it looks"

"Bullshit," he laughs, "I've cracked one before. College times. It hurts like hell if it's not cooled. You keep it iced or I'll strap that thing onto you. You breathing okay?"

"Brendan…" his brother warns. He gets it and drops the subject. Tommy does put the ice on his ribs though and leans back against the pillows.

"Does this remind you of when we were kids? I think you were twelve or something. Pop was in hospital again after passing out so we were home alone. Me, you and your broken rib from wrestling"

"Yeah," Tommy heaves a chuckle that cuts short because of the rib probably causing pain, "And you made me lie down and ice it the whole day"

"Coming right back full circle now," he muses.

"Nah. That time I beat the guy that broke it"

They both have to chuckle. Brendan settles back against the plush sofa pillows and heaves a sigh. They both just stay there, breathing slowly, letting the tiredness from the drive sink into them and make them both satisfied to be comfortable now. Then the older brother brightens.

"You know, you could always stay a day longer. I can show you around school tomorrow," he raises an eyebrow at Tommy, "You have no idea how much fan mail I've had to deal with"

"Sure you do," is the sarcastic reply.

"I'm serious. You're an idol to a lot of them," Brendan assures him, "Course, I was popular for winning the first time round but you're just as much of a legend"

He rolls his eyes. "Not after seeing that fight yesterday, I bet"

Brendan waits, silently communicating that he still expects an answer with his eyes. Tommy takes a gulp of his water, letting himself consider the offer before leaning back and meeting his gaze. "Not this time. I'll head home tomorrow. Call me in a month when I'm not a cripple and we'll talk about it"

"Fair enough," he shrugs, then adds with a smirk, "They'd probably want to see you in action anyway. And in this state, I'd win without trying"

"How's the boss fine with you coaching?" Tommy inquires.

"Took some time. But he's a fan himself and with parents' consent, I got it going. It's the paperwork and the school rules that are the biggest issue. The principal knows his UFC," Brendan explains, "Turns out he was cheering with my students when I was in Atlantic City"

"How's that going for you?"

"So great that his students made a facebook page dedicated to him," Tess says from the doorway. They both look up to see her standing there with a towel and a bottle of Paracetamol. Tommy actually raises an eyebrow at the remark.

"Hey, nowadays everyone shoots to fame online," Brendan defends himself as he gets up.

"You mean it doesn't bother you that every teenager in our children's school can see pictures of you punching massive guys half-naked?" she jokes back as she puts the things down on the table, "Good to know"

"Sounding jealous, Tess," he smiles.

She turns to his brother, "If you need anything…"

"I'm good," the former marine immediately placates her, "Thanks"

"Sure?"

He affirms with a nod and solid gaze. Tommy has always had this way of making people see his way and translating what he wants or doesn't want without use of words. That's something Brendan secretly admired in their youth, when he felt more misunderstood than accepted. In retrospect, that was obviously not the case but this method of nonverbal communication is still a quality that Tommy has perfected over the years, surely without being aware of it.

Tess tells them both goodnight and heads upstairs. She gets up even earlier than Brendan to drive across town so he figures he should get to bed soon so he won't disturb her by walking in later on. He looks back down at his brother. He's leaning over to pull his phone out of his bag.

"Did she watch on TV?" he thinks aloud. Tommy tosses the mobile back inside the bag.

"She doesn't say. Don't think so. She says good luck and to take care. Doesn't really apply when I'm in the cage," he shrugs, then leans over to shake out two pills and downs them with a sip of water.

Brendan takes another minute to ask about her. "How are you two going? It's been three months, right?"

A nod. "Four. It's good. I knew it was going to be complicated when we started and she's still got a lot to figure out for herself. We're…taking it slow"

"But you introduced us and she was okay with it. That's getting closer to home," Brendan encourages softly, "Look, even Tess said it. Just from that dinner, it's obvious she likes you a lot. Any trouble you guys have, it's probably worth it in the end"

"Yeah," he agrees and lapses into silence.

Brendan knows when there's a topic he doesn't need to elaborate further on with big brother advice and just says, "It'll work out"

He waves him off anyway, "Get some sleep, Brendan. You got lazy kids to teach tomorrow"

"Don't remind me," he groans as he heads towards the doorway and flicks off the main light, "Some days I'd rather get beaten up again than deal with certain ones. And their parents."

He's just about to close the door on his brother when the younger Conlon mutters his name again. Brendan looks across the dimmed room at the bulky figure lying on the couch. He's half-propped up on the cushions, ice on his chest, looking every bit a warrior recovering from a battle. But his face is uncharacteristically peaceful.

"Thanks for coming. Meant a lot"

There's an extended pause. When Brendan replies, it's perfectly genuine and almost a declaration of regret but both brothers feel that now, right at this time, there's no better way to say it.

"I wasted too many years not seeing you. It's only fair I catch up now"


	19. Moving in

She's just returned from her short vacation in Miami and decides to drop in at Tommy's on the way home to see how he's doing.

She really wanted to come around earlier but after the dinner at Brendan Conlon's place, her colleague took sick leave after contracting an infection and she was working double shifts. On top of that, there was Casey's birthday she'd offered to help with as well as her Mother asking her to join them for a weekend trip.

Then came a spontaneous holiday offer when the chief vet recovered and returned to work. She was glad to take it and since Tommy was away that weekend, decided to head down to the coast to see her old circle of friends. The ones she'd neglected terribly in the last couple of months.

Apart from a long phone call after he made it home from New York, she hasn't been in contact with him in quite a while. When he returned, he apparently had to go to the hospital for a rib injury and was then put under house arrest by his trainer for a while.

So she's here, ringing the bell, knowing she's a bit of a mess with the quick braid and loose button-up dress. She prefers travelling comfortably so after hopping off the flight and taking a cab here, he'd better not mind the windblown appearance.

He answers the door with the same snail speed as usual but his face brightens when he sees her. It's barely been three weeks, but at the sight of him, she can't help pressing her lips against his the moment he steps outside. She hadn't known she'd missed him that much until now.

He's just in his regular wife-beater and jeans and she takes the opportunity to run her hands over the strong arms to the back of his neck as she greets him. His enthusiasm is just as great. So much for worrying about looking dishevelled.

He pulls back first, smiling down at her. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," she says, slightly breathless, "Still remember me?"

"You said you're busy," he shrugs, then catches sight of the luggage on his doorstep and raises an eyebrow. It's that expression she found endearing on him the first time they met on the road, "You moving in and I don't get a warning?"

She laughs. "No. Just fresh from the airport. I felt bad, not seeing you for so long and I figured with all this time you've been spending indoors, you might want company."

"Good thinking," he responds, leaning in one more time.

Eventually, they make it past the front door and though she insists on carrying her bag, he determindly hoists it inside like it weighs nothing. They end up on the porch in the back, each of them with a cup of coffee and before she can start getting curious about his time in New York, he beats her to it, asking what she's been doing in the last weeks.

She doesn't hesitate to tell him about taking time off but loses her vigour when going into details about her visit down South. She mentions a good friend she stayed with, the reunions with some colleagues, talks about several places she would love to show him but never breaches the topic he's most interested in. So when she pauses to sip from her mug, he says it for her.

"You didn't visit the grave?"

She slowly lowers the cup to her lap. "I did."

There's an extended silence and she'd gladly leave it at this but knows that he is waiting for more, for some deeper words, anything that shows how she felt about it. She keeps looking at the brown liquid clasped in her hands, watching the tiny tremors on its surface. "It wasn't the best idea. It was like everything came back to me at once. It just hit me how it's been over seven months and it just hurts so much when I'm looking at his name on a stone"

"But," he notes, "you don't regret going."

As usual, she's amazed by his insight until she remembers that he has his own loss to deal with. How many times must he have stood in front of a memorial, beating himself up. Her pain is fresher though, hers still cuts deep at this moment. He's had years for it to dull and fade gradually into the background. She hasn't figured out how to look away from her past as well as he has.

"I did at that moment. Okay, maybe it is good to look it straight in the eye and all. Not fool myself into trying to block it out. But being there reminded me of the time before I left."

"Does it change something?"

She knows what he means. Does it change something for us, for what is happening here? She meets his eyes. Stormy grey, honest and completely focused on her. "Yes," she begins and watches them darken, "It made me realize how lucky I am to know somebody now who understands. It also confirmed that there's no going back. Just forward."

He's raising that eyebrow again and somehow that breaks the seriousness she's talked herself into. She reaches for his hand, traces the veins on its surface with a finger, lets her palm rest over it.

"I think he would understand that I don't want be alone."

He nods and as she leans back into her chair and raises the mug to her lips again, he gives her a half-smile of understanding. They sit in stillness for a while and Natalie rests her head against the back, listening to the chatter of birds sitting on the roof.

They move onto new topics after he asks if she wants a refill. She wants to hear about New York and he does his best to tell the story with moderate excitement and include every detail she wants to hear. Even in his simple way of speech, she could listen to his voice the whole day. There's something soothing to it, despite the fact that he's talking about throwing punches and breaking bones.

He conveniently skips the worst points of when he lost but when she digs a bit, confesses to the injuries. She gets the proper diagnosis and when he lifts his shirt to display the bruised area, she sucks in a breath.

"I'd be scared to get back in there to fight every time," she says, staring at the swollen flesh.

"Had worse."

"And you don't freak about maybe breaking something that's not fixable? Or ending up in a coma for hitting your head?" she inquires, not to be snappy but because she's really caught by his obvious bravery - or recklessness.

He's obviously not that bothered by it. He drops the shirt. "Been at it this long, I've stopped worrying. I know how to prevent that kind of thing. It's not just a blood sport, you know? There's limits we usually don't cross," he pauses before adding, "After Iraq there's nothing scary in the cage."

Army days. Do-not-talk-about-unless-necessary-days. She steers away from them.

"What about girls? I bet you get a lot of…I don't know, groupies or whatever you call them."

He snorts with laughter, followed by a wince. He must have jarred the rib again. She cracks a smile too, although the subject is actually a valid one. She's seen this stuff on television. It sure looked like there were masses of young women with excessively massive cleavage running around. To be honest, most of those fighters looked like the type who appreciates them too.

"No groupies"

It's her turn to scoff. "Come on. Am I supposed to believe that? Look at yourself, Tommy"

"No," he repeats, "Never wanted those"

She's impressed. For all his serious attitude and gentleman behaviour around her, she figured he's still that hot-blooded guy who wouldn't decline a lady who comes knocking. But she believes it when he tells her differently.

"You're right. Everyone should rather want to have a coffee with me than hop in bed with a horny pin-up girl. Especially after I've virtually been invisible for weeks," she grins.

He mirrors the same expression and for good measure, adds, "They sure don't live up to you"

"Careful. Flatter me any more, I'll get vain"

He just shakes his head in silent amusement and stretches languidly in his seat. Then his eyebrows scrunch together in another wince.

"That needs more ice. Stay here," she orders, taking their mugs, "I think I can locate your freezer"

This time around he actually obeys without denying it, simply watching her from his position as she heads back inside. His kitchen is easy to navigate and she's back outside with the item in no time. Without waiting for consent, she carefully removes the clothing from his upper body and takes her time examining the ribs for any telltale signs of internal problems. She doesn't notice that she's at a convenient angle for him to grab her until his hands find her thighs and she's suddenly on his lap.

She almost drops the ice in surprise.

"Such a doctor," he tells her, "I'm fine. It's just cracked"

"Contradiction there," she corrects, using her new position to hold the ice loosely against the affected skin. "How long has it been?"

He rolls his eyes. "A week"

She really can't help it. She's in doctor-mode now and she honestly needs to make sure he knows how to take care of this so there's no lasting damage. Injured lungs are no joke. "Keep icing for at least a few more days and obviously no working out that could dislodge anything. Are you on painkillers?"

He nods obediently and before she can go into an actual rant, his fingers smooth over her cheekbone, down her neck to run over the braid. The motion and following sensation steals her train of thought away.

"Fine," he affirms, before capturing her attention away from his injury entirely. Her hand stays on the icepack but she barely notices as she responds to his fervent kiss.

She's reminded that it's been three weeks since they last had physical contact like that and even though she just came from her fiancé's grave, the guilt stays on the fringes, not quite touching her. No immovable blockade in her mind that has her drawing back every time they get too close. In fact, now that she's been to see it, it's almost like she's back in the skin of the woman she was before the accident. The one that made decisions not based on other's approval.

It's close to perfect save for the pain he's in. The afternoon sun is warm on her back and his lips are covering hers like they belong there and she just feels enveloped in this man's presence. There's no rush, she savours every moment of it.

His lips drop to her neck at some point, he toys with the neckline of her dress and against her collarbone, he asks, "You want to spend the night?"

She must have applied a bit too much pressure with the ice there because he puts a bit of space between their bodies. She catches her breath and her rational mind.

"About the moving too fast part…"

He leans back against the chair, actually giving her a mocking look from hooded eyes. She pulls up short in the middle of her explanation, "What?"

"I've got a busted rib. That rules out a lot of the possibilities," he deadpans which gets a laugh out of her, "Hey, look, I'm just asking. You brought your suitcase anyway"

She contemplates for a second, "We go by my rules?"

"Sure"

"And if I'd come without a suitcase?" she wonders with a quirked smile.

"I got clothes here, you know"

She leans back slightly, getting a good look at the handsome face with the expressive eyes and alluring lips and immediately realizes she shouldn't have. She can't say no. The man has got her completely unable to deny him when she secretly wants him around just as much.

"You win," she agrees, gets up and conveniently drops the ice right into his lap.

His indignant look is so worth it.


	20. Whisky

_AN: Nick Nolte really deserved that Oscar nomination. Just saying. It's a shame the movie never really went big enough to get our other actors a nod of recommendation as well. Now that all that excitement is over… back to Tommy._

Their glasses of whisky clink and they both down the drinks without blinking. He relishes the taste filling his mouth, the burn of the alcohol as it goes down his throat. He mirrors the other man's motion of plonking it back down on the counter.

It's a casual bar they're at but it's become their regular place for a drink. It's been at least a month since they've moved from a simple working relationship into actually sharing a word outside the gym.

Honestly, he was surprised when the guy asked if he was up for a drink. Barely a week before, they'd beaten the shit out of another at the gym for the first time. But since then, he and Tommy head around here sometimes and astounding as it is, they've formed a semblance of friendship.

Not that Michael minds. Ever since moving down to Pittsburgh, he's had a bit of a hard time adjusting and making acquaintances at his new job. He supposes it's the tough exterior that scares them off. It started from the moment he stepped into the factory as head supervisor and apart from being polite colleagues there are none that really approach him past a professional level.

So somehow, he has found an ideal drinking companion in Tommy Conlon.

From what he's gotten so far, the guy has an equally troubled past. Turns out they both served in the army, though Michael was stationed in Afghanistan and in a very quiet area. He got lucky not to have run into any major problems in his years there. They lost six men in that period, none of them he'd personally known.

They discover this mutual experience early on and although he senses how reluctant Tommy is to talk about it, they end up breaching the topic now and again in the next outings. He gets it. After returning home, he never really talked to anyone but his father about his time out there. Even saw a psychologist a handfull of times. Judging from the way Tommy's eyes grow dark and his voice rough, he has never really opened up at all.

It's a Friday night today and he noticed that Tommy's gait is slightly changed when he comes inside. He asks him about it after their second glass and the fighter grimaces.

"Busted rib from New York," he says and his annoyed expression makes Michael grin.

"Worth it?"

The other man shakes his head. It's not miserable but a sign of reluctant acceptance that for once, he's been bested. "Third."

"Out of twenty guys. That's pretty damn great, man," Michael tells him with genuine honesty, "I'd take the rib if I got a third place for it."

A chuckle. "I forgot what real injuries feel like. They're a fucking pain."

Michael doesn't comment because he knows only too well how pissing off any kind of broken bone is. Even if it's not one that needs to be cast. He lost count of the times he cracked something in his hand or foot during turbulent childhood years.

Instead he orders them two more and slides one over to the other man. "Some down time isn't the worst thing."

"Yeah. Missing good fights though," Tommy explains between gulps, "I don't do sitting around without purpose"

He realizes he's never actually asked his reasoning behind getting in the cage. He himself spent a two years in the circuit before deciding the competition was too demanding for a guy who'd was going to be starting a family with his girlfriend. He got himself a degree instead, found a job to support the family and only worked out regularly to take the edge off. But this man here, he evidently lives for it. "What got you into it anyway?"

"MMA?"

"Yeah. You don't look like the kid from the bad neighbourhood who does it for kicks."

"My old man. Got me into wrestling early, my older brother into martial arts. Didn't work out for him, he mainly did it to please Pop, but I stuck with it. Kept it up for bet money when I was younger. Then I went for the service."

"And came back under the radar to get into SPARTA," Michael supplies. Tommy gives him a measuring glance. "What? Your name does the rounds. You're on the Internet, you know."

"Not my choice," the ex-Marine says sheepishly, shrugging, "What about you?"

"The fighting?" he chuckles, humourlessly though, "Man, I _was_ that kid from that neighbourhood. I had that stupid need to prove myself to everyone but instead of going for knife fights, I found a guy who taught me MMA. Turned out I had some talent for it so I kept it going. Until I met my wife."

"She didn't like it?" Tommy asks and he thinks there's more behind the inquisitive gaze than just pure curiosity.

"I gave it up for her. You can't have the father of your kid running around beating people up. Just doesn't work. You need consistency and with training…I can't do both. I want to see my son grow up. It was my choice."

Tommy ponders that and Michael is still observing enough after his second drink to note, "You got a girl who's asking you to stop?"

The man shifts as he shakes his head, leaning his elbows on the counter. "She's good with it…and family's not a topic."

"Man, I didn't even know I wanted kids until I met her. I was twenty-six when she got pregnant. No guy really thinks about family at that age but it happened and it's great. Wouldn't change it for the world," he smiles into his drink.

"How old?"

"Turning seven this summer. His name's Brian."

The ex-marine's lips quirk as he listens. Michael knows there's always an affectionate note that creeps into his voice every time he mentions his son. It's just that fatherly pride he doesn't consciously register when he's talking. He smiles as he faces his glass again.

"Too bad. You'd be great in the cage," Tommy shrugs, "You've got it"

He grunts, shakes his head in return. "Not going back there, man. Exciting while I was into it but now it wouldn't be like that. Be glad I'm not a serious fighter. Saves you hell of a lot of stress," he flashes a smirk at the last part.

The look that the other guy throws his way is priceless. Michael can feel the dangerous intensity trained on him while he grins to himself and downs his drink. He's experienced first-hand what Tommy is like in the training ring. He sure doesn't want to know what he is capable of out of a professional environment. Especially when aggravated.

But then the bulky man lets out a short laugh and actually bobs his head in agreement. "I gotta feeling you still have tricks up your sleeve."

"That's more from street fighting," Michael reveals, "Ten years ago I was getting experience out of the cage. Shady places. People cheat and you pick up on that stuff. You play fair?"

"I don't kick a man when he's down," Tommy declares but after another gulp of whisky, reconsiders, "There's not that much you can do that's against rules in there"

There's a pause in which both of them focus on finishing their near-empty drinks. He can feel it gradually start to get to him. The noises are just the slightest bit hazier around him; his body seems to become steadily warmer. Tommy beside him appears to finally experience the hit of their fourth glass as well; his eyes have taken on the slightest glassy sheen.

So later on, Michael doubts that either of them will be surprised that they once again drift into conversation about the past. It's actually Tommy who brings the topic up again now that they've breached it anyway.

"What else did you hear 'bout me? 'Bout SPARTA?"

"Not much. The part about you going AWOL was the main thing. And how you lost the final round to this guy…your brother, yeah?"

A nod.

"And then the war hero stuff. That was pretty intense shit," he trains his eyes on the former marine who remains unresponsive. He feels the need to reinforce that he means what he's saying. "That was five lives you saved, man. Feel free to enjoy the recognition."

"The squad captain sure did. Came to find me after my discharge," Tommy snorts, "Kids like that waste their time calling me a hero. It's all chance out there. They got lucky, that's all."

"Quit the bullshit," he interrupts him, none too subtly at this point, "What's so hard about accepting you did something good for the world?"

"''Cause it was guilt," the former marine mutters, staring into his glass, "Not fucking honour"

Michael shuts up then because his brain can't process the conversation properly right now. There's too many possible answers he could give here and none of them would begin to cover the extent to which this story is quite screwed up. He understands though or thinks he does. He still finds it stupid though, this man's determined grasp on the idea that he's not worth anyone's gratitude.

So he goes along with it and allows Tommy to say exactly what he has been thinking of all this insanity. Actually, that's what he's best at. Listening and finding a solution, just as he's able to do on a professional level.

Alcohol gets the man talking more than usual and the minutes melt into an hour as he tells him about the loss of his best friend, the run from Iraq, getting his old man to prepare him for competition with no questions and the motivation for entering SPARTA. Little things reach his mind, aspects like that fact that he now has an identity to associate with the elderly man that first asked him to spar with Tommy.

The crazy thing is, the more he coaxes his drinking buddy to spill, the more he can relate to him as well. A lot of the time there are parts of his own experiences and views he sees reflected in the man.

"You ever think about deserting?" Tommy asks randomly at some point and Michael has to chuckle.

"One time seriously. All the other days, it was more wishful thinking. I didn't have the guts to do it though. It was right at the start and that time I decided not to care about serving the country and all that. I was too fucking homesick."

"Maybe, yeah," Tommy agrees, "Not when you got no more home"

"Been there, man," Michael acknowledges. "You up for another round? This time no more stories from back _then_ or I swear you're paying for all of these."

The other man faces him with a half-smile, sliding his glass over. They both wait patiently for the drink to be poured before raising them to each other.

"To new days," Michael toasts, completely aware of the cheesiness of it all.

To his surprise, Tommy reacts, clinking their glasses together lazily. "To new days," he repeats and when their eyes lock for the briefest of moments, in their tipsiness they both recognize the sincerity of the statement.

Then the alcohol is being downed and any troubled past becomes irrelevant.


	21. Parents

She takes her eyes off the road and gives him a nudge from across the passenger seat. The tension in his shoulders doesn't dissipate. "It's dinner, there's only so much that can go wrong"

Tommy grumbles something under his breath and she is truly amused that meeting her family poses a greater challenge to him than his line of work. He's even gone to the lengths of pulling out a button-up shirt, something she wouldn't have guessed he even owned.

She doesn't need to give him directions; he knows this route all too well. Since she's moved closer to town, they don't cross paths that often anymore but she's pretty sure he still runs this way.

When they pull up in front of the house and she unbuckles, he takes a moment to look at the well-kept building, flowerpots dominating the patio. The April rain doesn't detract from its welcoming atmosphere and she wonders if he's drawing parallels compared to his father's house.

Meeting Patrick Conlon a couple of weeks back was an almost equally nervous affair for her. Tommy had opened up about the difficult relationship a bit and she'd found it hard to understand what it meant exactly to have grown up with an alcoholic. She'd never had to think about having a glass of wine, worrying about it getting out of control and could only imagine the effect it had had on Tommy. It explained how he kept drinking to a minimum on most days.

The man she'd met at his tournament a while ago had been a little standoffish, not much of a talker but by no means somebody unfriendly. He'd looked hardened by life, an old guy who had experienced a lot and obviously knew his way around a tough sport. With everything she knew now, Natalie had been apprehensive about meeting him but Tommy's father had been nothing but gracious.

Meeting in a public place, a coffee shop, had been Tommy's idea and they enjoyed the first truly sunny day of the year over hot chocolate and coffee as Paddy asked questions, shared anecdotes and even managed to make his son crack a smile at one point. A person who'd lived in Pittsburgh most of his life, he had many stories about the nooks and crannies of this place. She liked this man who had just made it to seventy and yet managed to come across as somebody who was only starting to fully engage in life.

Strangely enough, observing the two men interact showed her little of the complicated relationship they may have had before. Although Tommy was slightly more reserved than usual, she couldn't read any resentment in his behaviour.

It had been more relaxed than she'd anticipated. She'd enjoyed getting to know Paddy and couldn't help but notice that he seemed to have had a high opinion of her even before meeting. Tommy must have something to do with that, not that she's complaining.

She wonders if the encounter is going through Tommy's mind too as they step out of the car and head into the rain. Making their way up the drive, she touches his arm before they reach the stairs.

"Hey. There are no expectations here, they're just curious about you. I'm pretty sure mom even made chicken," she jokes and that finally has him cracking a smile. She smoothes a hand over his shirt collar, "It's just like the broken rib – take it easy"

"Yes, Doctor," he mocks and she shuts him up with a kiss.

"Come on," she leads the way out of the steadily increasing downpour and rings the bell. It's the new husband who opens the door and she flashes him a quick smile before stepping inside to look for her mother, "Hey Dan, where's mom hiding?"

"In the living room," the man directs her as he lets Tommy enter behind her, addressing the ex-Marine, "I'm Daniel, pleased to meet you"

"Tommy," he replies as they shake hands and Natalie misses the way they eye each other for a moment, the insurance manager and the MMA fighter. Then her mother breezes around the corner and she's enveloped in a brief hug, the scent of cinnamon clinging to her mother's dress.

She has to hide her grin. That can only mean there will be cinnamon apples for dessert, her absolute favourite. Her mom is really pulling out all the stops to make sure that she feels supported in this.

"Mom," she turns back to the other guest, "This is Tommy"

"Even more handsome than in the photo," she smiles at him and Natalie inwardly cringes at the statement, even though the fighter seems to be pleasantly surprised as her mother also embraces him, "We're so pleased you could make it. I'm Sandra"

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," he responds and it's Natalie's turn to be taken aback at how formal that sounds coming from him. It's the military persona shining through today. Her mother seems to be more than impressed by the manners because she gives her a meaningful look as she ushers them into the living room. "Come on in."

They settle on the sofa while her mother finishes up in the kitchen and Dan instantly offers Tommy the standard icebreaker beer, which he politely declines. Natalie goes along with him for the moment, also shaking her head and instead asking him about work recently. It's always a good subject with Dan, the man is successful at his job and he enjoys talking about it endlessly. She leans against Tommy, feels him relax a bit as the conversation continues.

Inevitably, the question about his profession follows and Tommy answers with self-assured words, describing the sport in that factual manner of his, which has it sounding no crazier than a football game. Her mother's husband looks fascinated, having no experience with it and asks all the right questions. Just like that, the men have reached a subject that both can relate to on some level – sport.

She meanders into the kitchen after a while to help her mother with the chicken roast. She finds her slicing bread, the bird already steaming on the kitchen table in its bed of carrots and onions. It looks extremely good. "Should I take that inside?" Natalie offers and her mom throws a grateful look over her shoulder.

"Thanks, sweetie," she nods, "I'll be right behind you"

The platter is still steaming as she manoeuvres it into the living room and deposits it on the dining table. Tommy comes up behind her just as she sucks on her thumb, which has grazed the hot surface and mutters in her ear, "You weren't joking about the chicken"

"'Course not," she pulls him around the table.

Conversation is thankfully easy, her mother naturally cracks jokes about Natalie and her childhood but she's used to that by now. Tommy catches her eye on more than one occasion and she just sighs, shaking her head at the stories.

The food is fantastic and she can tell her mother is pleased when Tommy acknowledges that it's one of the best roasts he's had so far. Sandra waves him off but the delighted expression stays.

"So how long have you been in Pittsburgh, Tommy?" Dan starts on a different topic, leaning back in his chair to take a swig of beer, "Natalie mentioned you lived here before"

"Born and raised until I was fourteen. I've been back eight months now," he supplies, taking a sip of water.

"And in that time away you were in the Marines?"

"Mostly," Tommy agrees but there's a muscle working in his jaw that tells her he's not entirely comfortable going into this, "I was discharged last year"

"Your cousin was also in the Marines, wasn't he?" her mother adds, addressing her husband who nods, launching into a story of the relative and his experiences abroad. Tommy is listening and while she has no idea about military jargon, he jumps in at one or two points to clarify things. It's interesting to see him identify with that part when he barely speaks about it with her. It always seems to be something he doesn't want to address.

"It's an honourable choice," Dan asserts, "My cousin came back and knew it wasn't something he could do for the rest of his days but those guys that spend their life in the military…it's a brave thing"

It's a statement that begs for affirmation. Tommy simply says, "Sure it's honourable when you would die for your country. 'Long as the country stands behind you"

There's an uncertain silence following his answer that settles on the table like a thick layer of snow. Then Dan voices what everybody else is thinking, "You mean the friendly fire incident."

That has the fighter's head coming up, fixing the older man with a stare. Natalie wants to bury her head in her hands. She should have known the moment she spilled the news on seeing someone that these two would go to lengths to find out more. Unfortunately, Tommy's activities have been forever stored on the Internet.

Her mother instantly realizes that this is a bad subject to be touching on, "We're sorry, it was just…on the news a while ago and when Natalie mentioned that you…"

"It's fine," Tommy cuts in.

"No, you're right Sandra, we overstepped," Dan jumps in, "It's not our place to judge according to what reporters say. We just wanted to make sure that Natalie…well, after what happened last year…"

Tommy raises an eyebrow, "That she didn't turn up with a psychotic deserter"

At this point, she just can't watch where this is going anymore. Without warning, she pushes her chair back and despite how childish the gesture must look, she can't think of anything else right now. "I think I should show Tommy around outside before dessert"

Never mind that it is the most ridiculous idea, since it's dark by now and the rain hasn't ceased since they arrived here. Her mom cooperates anyway, getting up to stack the plates and push them into her husband's unsuspecting hands. She moves, circling the table and grabbing Tommy's hand as she goes to pull him along.

She doesn't care enough to grab her jacket and so they're standing on the back patio a moment later, under the dim glow of a single outside light in the cold. She leans against the closed door, not even knowing where to start.

"I'm so…I don't know, embarrassed doesn't even cut it close. It's like I'm sixteen all over again," she looks across to where he's standing at the banister, hands buried in his pockets, "I can't believe they looked you up to...god, I don't even know what they were looking for. It's like they have some insane picture that you're a dangerous guy because of what you did in a situation where anyone would have been irrational! I'm just…so sorry about this."

"Why?" he turns to face her, "They're just honest"

She's actually stumped. How can he be so calm about being openly judged by her folks without ever having met before? She shakes her head, not backing down on this one. "Tonight's the kind of night where they should have blocked that out. I mean, it's plain respect - they're meeting you for the first time."

"Nah, I get it," he tilts his head towards the house, "They know what I'm capable of so they're wondering what kind of guy I must be. How I can be good for someone who just lost the person she loves."

She doesn't know whether to be frustrated more with her parents or with him at this point. The fact that he completely understands their motives must mean he's put a lot of thought into this himself. That realization almost has the anger fade and turn into something closer to disappointment. That he would doubt that he isn't exactly what she wants.

"That's not for them to judge…or you," she blurts and he snaps to attention at her words, shoulders tightening, "I make my own decisions about who I want in my life. And I choose you because I really don't care what you're supposedly capable of when I know that's not how you treat me"

When she finishes her rant, the pounding of the rain above their heads fills the air. She crosses her arms and waits for a response. He's suddenly got that same look he had that night in the cab and eventually crosses the space towards her. "That's good," he tells her, those grey eyes fixed right on hers with their blatant honesty, "'Cause I…really want to be what you need"

She manages a smile at that, even though traces of anger are still pumping through her body. His vulnerability is back, exposing itself to her amongst all this and she's grateful. Exhaling, she pushes away from the doorframe. "Me too," she murmurs and lets her fingers graze along his collar again, "But right now, I really need those cinnamon apples before I can handle any more family time"

He has to chuckle at that and this time it's him that takes her hand when they walk inside.


End file.
